


Anywhere Else But Here

by Swanny_Writer



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magical Realism, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Here we go again guys, Jeon Wonwoo Is Bad at Feelings, Lee Chan is Misguided, Light Angst, M/M, Minor Character Death (before the start of the fic), Mystery Adventure, Non-Graphic Violence, Pure & Curious Kitty Gets Grumpy & Jaded Fox to Believe in Love and Hope, Slow Burn, Strangers to Lovers, Wen Junhui is a Sweetheart, WonHui Are So Done, WonHui are THE power couple
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-29
Updated: 2018-11-24
Packaged: 2019-06-18 14:28:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 26
Words: 160,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15487893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Swanny_Writer/pseuds/Swanny_Writer
Summary: Five years after his mother’s disappearance, Junhui receives a letter addressed to her. The content leads him to Serenity Port, the small sea town that his mother once called home. Upon arrival, Junhui quickly grasps that the quiet town and its reserved inhabitants are not as they appear.After centuries imprisoned on Amarut Island, Wonwoo is determined to find a way to escape his guilt and nightmares. His wish is granted when Junhui crosses his path. In exchange for his aid in the search for Wen Hayun, Junhui will get him off the island. It’s a simple partnership based on mutual need and desperation.They weren’t supposed to get attached.Together, they embark on a rescue mission, but who will save them from the monster that lurks within the shadows? Will they escape Serenity Port, or will they forever remain part of its gruesome history?-





	1. The Letter

**Author's Note:**

> Helloooooooo beautiful people! ( ⸝⸝•ᴗ•⸝⸝ )੭⁾⁾ How's everyone's summer? It's super hot where I live, so what better way to help combat the heat than by reading something creepy? Granted, the fic isn't horror by any means, but the tone is pretty spooky (at least to me, you guys will be the judge of that).
> 
> With that said, it's modern setting, but I didn't really specify the location (bc i am lazy), although it's more Western-ish (again, bc i am lazy and that means less research work for me. sorry ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ not that geography has ever been my forte, but y'know). I kept their usual name format, though, since switching it around sounds awkward... 
> 
> That's enough rambling, I think. Let's go! I hope you'll enjoy! ^_^
> 
> -

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jun receives a mysterious letter.

 

 

The unlikely story began three weeks ago with the arrival of the anonymous letter addressed to his mother. That alone should have warned him that its content held nothing but trouble and warranted to be burned immediately. Instead, naïve and curious as he was, Junhui brought it into the house.

The envelope itself was neither special nor hard to procure. The handwriting on the front and inside the letter gave him pause due to its impeccable scripts, though. Aside from his grandmother and old teachers, no one used cursive anymore. Holding the paper close to his nose, he could make out the strokes and dips on the surface, as if it were written by a quill pen. Even more odd, but certainly not too strange. Some people enjoyed writing with fountain pens. His parents were among those enthusiasts.

Consequently, the peculiar choice of writing tool wasn’t the source of his interest, but rather the fact that the sender addressed it to his mother.

Wen Hayun had disappeared five years ago without a trace. Months of police work and community searches came to naught. She had simply vanished into thin air. While Junhui had eventually accepted reality, the lack of closure often caused him to wonder if her secretive past had somehow caught up with her.

His parents, although loving their child more than anything in this world, seldom discussed their past with him. The furthest they’d recall were their college years, where they met and fell in love. From what he was told, it was the typical story of friends slowing becoming lovers. After they graduated and became financially stable, Junhui was born. They had quiet lives, with nothing more exciting than the yearly trip to the Coast to visit his paternal grandparents. The only grandparents he ever knew.

Among his parents’ secret past hid his maternal family. Junhui was used to think of them as hidden, since he’d never even seen their faces nor heard of their names. At first, he’d thought maybe his mom had been adopted, but then quickly dashed that idea away. Adoptive parents were still parents. No, it had to be something else. Then as he got older, he wondered with trepidation if she had run away from home because something terrible happened during her childhood. Once again, though, he realized that she showed none of the signs of past abuse. Maybe her family died in an accident long ago, yet that didn’t explain why she wouldn’t mention anyone or anything from her childhood.

Moreover, Junhui seemed to be the only one wondering about it. His father, considering how well he avoided all the questions, had to know and purposely kept his son in the dark. Junhui’s theory was made all the more apparent when Hayun disappeared. While very concerned and distraught, his father had regained his composure much faster than anyone in his shoes would.

The conclusion: his father knew what happened to his wife, or at the very least, had an idea why she left. Whatever information he possessed, he refused to tell Junhui. Deftly, he had dodged all the attempts at the truth over the years. Junhui hated to admit it, but at times it felt like he not only evaded his questions, but his son’s presence itself.

He taught mathematics at the University in town, which gave him the excuse of staying on campus for most of the day. The time at home, he spent the majority of it in his office. The two probably saw each other for an hour daily at most. Junhui wondered if his father avoided him because the older man worried that one day he might accidentally reveal the secrets he shared with his spouse to their son. The ones Junhui had never been allowed to be part of.

Now Junhui held the only item linked to his mother since her disappearance. There was no return address on the envelope. Who could have sent this? All of her friends and acquaintances knew of her absence.

He sat in the loveseat by the fireplace, its warmth radiating out to offer him some comfort in this moment of confusion. He had opened the envelope, hoping to find a familiar name signed at the end of the letter, but he didn’t. The name Jihoon told him nothing. This only served to further push him to believe that the reason she left had to do with her past.

Junhui set the letter on the coffee table and settled back, staring at it. Absentmindedly, he tugged at the sleeves of his sweater. Should he read the contents? It was addressed to her. Reading it seemed wrong, even if she was no longer here. Because she had always been so private, it felt like such an invasion of privacy. Could those beautiful words tell him more about her, though? Maybe even give him an idea of where she could have gone?

The clock on the wall struck 6:00, and Junhui glanced up. His father would be home in an hour, as he always did. His eyes shifted to the sliding glass door, seeing the gray and thin branches of the leafless trees sway back and forth in the November wind. Their small backyard had fallen to the wayside since his mom left. Gardening was among her hobbies. Tulips and daisies were her favorite; now there only remained a few wisps of yellow and crusty leaves in the patch of dirt right under the kitchen window. The various shrubs and plane trees still lived, but that was because they didn’t require all that much attention. They just asked for water, sunlight, and soil. Twice a year, his father would quickly trim them down, and they’d be happy.

Something soft and warm came to rub around Junhui's ankle, successfully pulling him out of his musings. With a grin, he glanced down and picked up the white cat to cradle into his lap. HuiHui purred as he stroked her gently over the bridge of her nose, giggling when she burrowed deeper against his sweater, demanding more scratches.

“Are you hungry, baby?”

In response, she meowed and nipped at his fingertips. He laughed quietly again, letting her squirm around to direct him to the spots where she wanted rubbed and scratched. It was so easy to forget his conflicting thoughts with her around. And so for a while, he just sat there and played with her. Ignoring trouble wasn't the most healthy coping mechanism, but he figured it beat running around screaming inside the house. Besides, didn't people say pets had the ability to destress people?

By 6:25, HuiHui hopped down from the couch and trotted over to the food bowl, calling out cutely for him when he took an extra second to snap a picture of her. Junhui giggled and pocketed the phone, before scooping out her food.

"Bon appétit!"

_“Meow.”_

“You're welcome!”

Out of the corner of his eye, he glimpsed at the coffee table, and his heart sank at the sight. All of the questions and agitation from earlier returned in the form of a swirling stomach. He rubbed the back of his neck and heaved a sigh. Slowly, as if afraid the letter would spring up and bite him, Junhui gathered the paper and stuffed it back into the envelope. He fought the urge to read the beautiful script as he left it in his room and returned to the first floor to start on dinner.

Right as the clock struck seven o’clock, he heard the keys jingle as the professor unlocked the front door. Junhui stood in the kitchen, cutting vegetables while he waited for the water to boil and cook the noodles. The small bell on HuiHui's collar tinkled lightly as she pranced down the hall to greet the newcomer. Junhui could hear his father's soft voice as he took off his shoes and greeted their cat in return.

“Hi, Dad,” he smiled as the older man walked past the kitchen doorway.

“Hi, Jun.” A tired smile accompanied the response.

“How was your day?” Junhui asked.

His foot was already on the first step of the stairs, but the question made him retrace his path.

“Fine, midterm season. You remember how it goes, right?”

Junhui laughed softly. “It’s been six months since my last midterm. I think I can still recall the anxiety.”

Chuckling, he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Your internship is still going well? I heard Norman is handing over those chart reviews for you to do. He said you’ve done a lot of things to help everyone out, not just your supervisor.”

That genuinely surprised him. Junhui didn’t know he kept up with what his son did, seeing as he avoided the boy like the plague at home. “Yeah,” Junhui answered, “I just wish I could get paid,” he half-joked.

That made the older smile, but the gesture was strained. Junhui could guess his thoughts, since he more than likely shared them. The two didn’t usually have conversations. Greetings and courteous exchanges, but hardly any dialogue. Not since Hayun left.

As if sensing that Junhui was about to bring her up again, the professor fled.

“Well, I have to start inputting grades and answer student emails,” he said, turning toward the stairs again. “Don’t wait on me for dinner.”

 

Determined to at least ask him about the letter, Junhui deliberately dragged out cooking the meal. The man was only human, he had to eat at some point. Eventually, he came downstairs, but armed with his laptop and folders. He was ready to shut Junhui out with the excuse of answering emails and writing the final exam.

For the next half hour, Junhui let him think he could. The pair ate in silence just like any other evening, the soft clinking of the metal chopsticks against ceramic dishware the only background noise.

Toward the end of dinner, Junhui carefully approached the subject.

“How come you and Mom never talked about her childhood?”

Aside from a slight jerk of his hand, he remained very calm as he sipped on his water and continued to type. “She preferred it that way.” _Preferred._ Past tense.

“But she told you, didn’t she?” Junhui persisted, fingers curling around his sleeve.

He nodded, but didn’t elaborate further.

Junhui's voice was small and hesitant, shoulders drawn together. “Do you... Do you think she’s coming back?”

Folding his hands under his chin, his father sighed like the weight of the world rested on his shoulders. “No, Junhui. I don’t think your mother is coming back.”

The weight of the world shifted to rest on Junhui’s frame now. He slumped in his seat, gazed strained on his own lap.

After that, they stayed very quiet, unmoving at the kitchen table. Normally, it wouldn’t be much of a difference compared to other evenings, but this time, the silence was heavy and stuffy, to the point that Junhui could hear the whirring of the laptop. His father stared intently at the screen, although Junhui doubted he saw anything. Finally, several minutes later, Junhui broke the silence, glancing up from his lashes.

“It’s just curious that no one contacted her or asked after her until now.”

“Until now?” he echoed sharply, his face paling under the fluorescent light of the kitchen.

Junhui nodded. “A letter came in for her. I didn’t read it, but the sender signed it as Lee Jihoon. Do you know who that is?”

His father, sliding his hands under his glasses, rubbed his eyes in a circular motion with a heavy sigh. “No. He—Those people…” He paused, as if composing his thoughts and grabbing at his temper. “Please don't give it another thought. Forget about the letter. Better yet, throw it in the trash. Don't ever mention it again.”

All Junhui could do is gape at him, startled by the sudden anger punctuating his words.

Getting up, the older gathered his plate with the utensils and dropped them in the sink. He returned to the table to retrieve his computer and headed back to his office without another glance. As if reconsidering the harsh words, he halted at the bottom of the stairs and softened his tone.

“There’s a very good reason why your mother never mentioned her past, Jun, why she buried it and never wanted you to hear of it. It’s not a happy place.”

After he left, Junhui remained seated alone with his thoughts, brows pulled together in concentration. His mom couldn’t have been part of the Witness Protection Program, could she? The secrets and hidden past could be a result, but somehow, it didn’t fit. For one, she probably wouldn’t even be allowed to tell her then-boyfriend about it, and it was obvious his father knew. Whatever the secret was, it was something else, something she ran away from. But what could it be?

Junhui quickly did the dishes then went upstairs, HuiHui following after him, little bell tinkling. His room, before he switched the lights on, seemed to have put the letter under a spotlight. In the rush earlier, he had left it on the desk, and now the light coming in from the street hit that particular corner, where the white paper reflected the yellow glow. The sight was a little too foreboding for his liking. He flipped on the switch.

His father had said that the letter was trash. Or at least, it deserved to be put in the trash. So if Junhui were to read it, it would be okay, right? He wouldn't have technically disobeyed his wishes. HuiHui seemed to think so when she nudged at his hand, blue eyes bright.

(Later on, Junhui would wonder how his life would be different if he had thrown the letter away like the older had asked. If Junhui hadn’t picked it up and read it.)

 

_My dear child,_

_I sincerely hope that this letter gets to you. Ensuring that it would not get intercepted proved difficult, and I hope that the endeavor was well worth it._

_For being the bearer of bad news, I apologize, but I believe that you have a right to know, and perhaps even help. For 5 years now, your mother had returned and stayed in Serenity Port, a little town off of the pacific northwestern coast—her childhood home._

_Normally, I would have kept her wish and not contacted you; however, she has gone missing. No one has seen her for a few days now, and nobody seems to know her whereabouts. She left her personal belongings behind, which leads me to believe that she did not depart on her own accord. We were able to find a picture of you and your father in her wallet, as well as, your address._

_Her journal was also discovered, but the notes are undecipherable. Ifear that something unfortunate has happened to her. Please come to Serenity Port and help us figure out what happened to your mother._

_Best regards,_  

_-Lee Jihoon._

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear it's a WonHui fic lol. I hope it was interesting enough that you didn't fall asleep... (‘～`;) 
> 
> Anyway, I'll post Ch. 2 in a few hours, and Ch. 3 tomorrow. Hopefully by then, there'll be enough stuff to give you a better idea of the storyline. 
> 
> Thank you very much for reading! Have a wonderful day! ⸜( ˙˘˙)⸝  
> xoxoxo
> 
> P.S.: I keep forgetting, but here's my [twitter](https://twitter.com/Swanny_Writer). Come chat with me!


	2. Choices and Decisions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Junhui does some snooping and makes some important discoveries.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's add some suspense, shall we? Poor confused kitten jun, though lol
> 
> Anyway, thank you guys for the continuous support. We'll get through this fic together! ᕙ(⇀‸↼‶)ᕗ No worries, it's only half the length of THOY XD
> 
> -

 

 

His stomach churned, and Junhui dropped the letter on the bed. So many questions swirled inside his head, but none seemed to have any answers. The first thing he asked himself though, was whether this letter was even legitimate? This could, however unlikely, be a prank. His father obviously didn’t think highly of it. But what if it were real? In that case, what was his mom doing, disappearing and reappearing from and to different places? Why hadn’t she contacted her own family?

Why did she leave in the first place?

Confused and angry, Junhui groaned and ruffled his hair roughly, stomping in place. That seemed to ease the frustration somewhat. He blew out a sigh and turned on his computer to look up Serenity Port. As the page loaded, he glanced over his shoulder. Closing the door now would be suspicious, since he didn’t have a habit of it. But he was afraid his father would walk by the door and see what he was up to, so he had to be on the lookout. Maybe keeping secrets ran in the family, because Junhui decided not to tell the older. At least not yet, not until absolutely necessary. He took comfort in HuiHui's low purring sounds as she settled on his lap, content with his fingers running through her fur, as he began reading.

 

_Serenity Port: a small fishing town on the East coast of Amarut Island. It is the only inhabited island among the clusters that form Diamond Isles. Established in the 1810s, it continues to this day to export seafood to the mainland. Its peaceful setting, small town feel, and old-fashioned architecture draw in curious visitors every year. Population: 3171._

 

The only available pictures showed the beach and the town hall, which looked like it was taken from the pages of a storybook. Even for a 19th century town, it was odd. Maybe it was part of the tourism, a tactic to keep people coming. He tried to look for other links, but there wasn’t much aside from the usual blogs talking about the scenic views and where to buy the best and cheapest seafood.

Sighing, Junhui sat back in the chair. Well, Google didn’t help him out much this time. He reached for the letter and read it again, this time wondering why Lee Jihoon claimed finding their address was difficult if he read it off of his mother’s suitcase. Moreover, why use her name on the envelope? How could he know Junhui would read it instead of his father? Why not include a return address?

Maybe because Lee Jihoon wasn’t a real person, and this could very well be some kind of sick joke, a hoax manufactured by a moron who had nothing better to do than sending out cryptic letters to strangers. Wen Hayun’s absence under mysterious circumstances was well known around town; anyone could have written the letter and sent it to them. Junhui should’ve listened to his father and thrown it in the waste basket.

Junhui shoved the letter into its envelope and made a face at it. His hands hovered over the receptacle by the desk, but he couldn’t bring himself to let go. The nagging feeling of unease kept his fingers from releasing their grip. With a sigh, he dropped his head on the desk with a low _thump._ Now what? He puffed out his cheeks and sighed again, tucking the envelope among his notebooks. He really hoped he could forget about it and return to his mundane life.

“What should I do, HuiHui?”

_“Meow?”_

“That's not helping in the least,” he pouted down at his cat, whom merely stared up at him with wide innocent eyes. He sighed.

Late that night, as he laid in bed unable to sleep, he realized why he was so unwilling to believe the letter was genuine. His mother had been gone for so long that, even though he’d held it against his father, he, too, had buried the hope that she was still alive and would come back one day. Junhui didn’t want to exhume that hope, only to have it dashed away when reality hit again. There was also the fear that he might finally figure out what his parents had hid from him. Was ignorance really bliss? His father adamantly believed so, if what he said after dinner was any indication.

Junhui couldn’t decide whether discovering the truth outweighed its consequences.

So instead, he let the beautiful words on that letter gnaw at him slowly until exhaustion came and pulled him under.

 

That following weekend, while his father went to some conference for the entire two days, Junhui stormed his parents’ bedroom, hoping to find proof that the letter sender was wrong. If he could just find evidence that his mother didn’t live in Serenity Port when she was young, then he could finally get some rest.

Until his teens, Junhui used to spend quite a lot of time in his parents’ large walk-in closet, building his fort and dragging in all the snacks he could scavenge from the kitchen. He’d spend hours in there, reading most of the time, if Jeonghan was too busy to come over and play with him.

The experience proved useful now that Junhui needed to turn it upside down and snoop through the boxes. Neither his father nor Junhui had had the courage of putting his mom’s stuff into storage, so everything looked the way it had always been. Her clothes still hung on the hangers next to her husband's, and Junhui pushed them aside.

All Junhui could find were old shoe boxes containing receipts, car and insurance documents from decades ago, and photo albums. He started with those. The oldest pictures he could put his hands on only went as far as their sophomore year in college, which he’d already seen. The majority of the photos showed the three of them on vacation with various family members and friends.

Seeing her frozen in time made him miss her even more as he gently passed a fingertip over her smiling face, the pangs in his chest stronger than usual. But the feeling of longing quickly morphed into anger the longer he stared. He had wanted to put this whole mess behind him, accepting the facts that she was gone, but now all this confusion and frustration at her ambiguous departure resurfaced.

All because of that stupid letter.

Annoyed at himself for letting it get to him, Junhui put everything back in its place with a huff. This was ridiculous. The police couldn’t track her down; her friends and family couldn’t find her; no one had even heard or seen her in five years. Now suddenly, this random person claimed she’d been living in some tiny seaport town all this time, and recently had gone missing _again_? Then the stranger had the audacity to sign off the letter with a request of her son’s presence to investigate. Nothing about the affair sounded sane, yet here Junhui was allowing the content to keep him awake at night, driving him to snoop in his parents’ own personal space.

No.

He wasn’t going to let this supposed acquaintance of his mother control him. For all he knew, some kid was laughing his head off for pulling this idiotic prank.

Determined, he rose up to his feet and set the last box on the shelf above his head. The back of the box hit something, and it dropped behind the suit jackets. He pushed the hangers aside and looked for the object. From the sound it made, it couldn’t have been very large. He shuffled the shoes and boxes a bit before he saw it.

Sitting against the wall was a silver necklace with a white, round stone pendant. Shifting to sit on his legs, he scrunched his brows as he thought back. He remembered seeing his mother wear it in a few pictures, but he had never seen it in person before.

Picking it up by the chain, he studied the stone. It looked like jade, but with silver colored swirls throughout the milky background. He was holding the stone in his palm, rubbing the smooth surface with a thumb, when it progressively got warmer. Before he could assess whether he was imagining it, the heat quickly turned burning. With a startled squeak, Junhui dropped it to the ground.

_What in the world?_

He rubbed his hand against his jeans to ease the burn, eyes locating the necklace again. Cautiously, he bent down and held it up by the chain. He checked the stone, poking it a few times; it was cold as ice now. A chill ran down his spine.

Downstairs, the doorbell rang. Junhui jumped and clutched his head in fright. The following knocks on the door echoed the beating of his heart against his ribs. Once he found his bearings—realizing nothing was trying to kill him—he took in a couple steadying breaths and stood up. Still clutching the necklace, he closed the closet and raced down to the front door.

Jeonghan’s cheerful smile faded slightly when he took in the younger’s shortness of breath and flushed cheeks. Brown eyes widened with worry as he asked, “Are you all right? What’s the matter? You’re not sick, are you?”

He put his hand forward as if to check the boy’s temperature, but the latter shook his head and grinned. Junhui waved one hand around while he shoved the necklace in his back pocket. “Nothing, just, uh—I’m fine. You just kind of startled me.”

Jeonghan’s concern morphed into skepticism as he watched him with narrowed eyes. “You’ve never been that faint of heart. Were you doing something that you’re not supposed to?”

“Like what? Plan a robbery?” he asked sarcastically. “You know I only do that on Friday nights.”

His friend snorted and rolled his eyes, pretending to reach Junhui’s head to smack him silly. “Right. So are you ready?”

“Yeah, let me just get my things.” He grabbed his wallet and keys, and followed Jeonghan to the car.

The first time he met Jeonghan had been during the block party their neighborhood organized annually the third week of summer. Junhui was about six, and Jeonghan had just moved into the Johnson’s old house up the street. Although he was only a year older, Jeonghan babied him a lot, which he never really minded. It was nice to have an older brother.

Routinely, they went out for brunch on Sundays, since Jeonghan worked the rest of the week as a pharmacist, and Saturdays were reserved for his boyfriend. Or well, boyfriends, would be more accurate. Junhui still wasn’t sure he was ready to ask him about Seungcheol and Jisoo. Sometimes, some things were better off left private, even between good friends.

Although this week, Junhui would be more than happy to listen to the latest gossip as a much needed distraction.

Jeonghan drove them to their usual spot, chatting about this and that. At the bistro, they found a table inside by the window. For a November day, the sunshine streaking in felt quite warm. The waiter took their orders, and while they waited Jeonghan told him all about the kitten he had just adopted.

Junhui drifted in and out of the conversation, trying to retain the info, occasionally replying with a noncommittal sound. There was something about Seungcheol’s rap battle, and Jisoo taking them to the observatory, but Junhui couldn’t be sure. The shape of the necklace bit into his upper thigh, which absorbed all of his attention.

“Do you have to use the restroom or something?” Jeonghan asked, stopping in the middle of his sentence with a soft laugh.

“Huh?” Junhui froze and blinked, staring at the other.

“You keep fidgeting,” he chuckled.

_Shoot_. “No, sorry, I’m just... Uh...” He scratched at his hair.

“Did you even hear a word I said?” Jeonghan was smiling, but Junhui knew to recognize that lilt in his voice. Jeonghan was sensing something was off.

“Of course, I did,” Junhui said right away. “You adopted a kitten.”

With an eye roll, Jeonghan laughed again. “Figures that’s all you took from it. I moved past the kitten five minutes ago, Junnie.”

His eyes widened in panic. “Y-you did?”

“Yeah. I know you’re not the most attentive, but are you sure you’re okay?”

Thankfully for him, the waiter arrived with their plates, so for a minute, Junhui didn’t have to answer. Once the server left though, the older resumed the inquiries, much to Junhui’s apprehension.

“Alright, jumpy cat, spill. What’s going on?” Picking up the fork, he speared a tater tot and popped it in his mouth.

“Nothing,” Junhui lied with a shrug, shoving half a pancake into his mouth.

“I interrupted something you were doing earlier, didn’t I?” he pressed on, eyes sharp.

At that point, Junhui realized that the more he squirmed away, the more Jeonghan will want to know. What was the harm in telling him? Maybe he’ll offer some advice on what Junhui should do.

“Okay,” he relented, lowering his voice, eyes shifting around. “But don’t mention it to my dad. It’s about my mom.”

The older’s expression changed from amusement to concern. “What about her?”

Taking in a deep breath to steady his thoughts, Junhui told him about the letter, the way his father had dismissed it, and about the secrets purposely hid from him, how the adults had always been so shifty and dismissive of his questions. Jeonghan listened carefully, never interrupting.

“I looked up the town, and it’s real,” he said. “But I couldn’t find any document that linked her to it. I know I should take the content of that letter with a grain of salt, but at the same time, it could actually answer my questions.”

With a thoughtful look, Jeonghan nodded. “You received the letter almost an entire week ago, though. If you think there’s even a small chance you’ll find her, you need to act now.”

“I know,” Junhui groaned, covering his face with both hands. “I just... I’m just scared of making the decision.”

Lowering his hands, he leaned back against the chair. Jeonghan was staring straight into his eyes. When he spoke, his firm voice made Junhui shrink back like a scolded child.

“Junnie, this is important. You can’t be wishy-washy about this as you’ve been all your life. It’s high time for you to make a conscious decision for yourself.”

His mouth opened automatically to argue with him, but then his brain kicked in, and he shut it. Jeonghan continued with a small, satisfied nod, glad that Junhui acknowledged his indecisive nature for once.

“Since I’ve known you, you’ve been practically letting other people make your life choices. In school, you only joined clubs because your friends asked you to come along. You’re wearing clothes other people—that includes me, as well—say look good on you. Correct me if I’m wrong, but you even let your parents influence where you applied to college, and you picked your major based on your high school teachers’ comments.” He paused a second. “Did you even want to intern for that company?”

Unable to meet his gaze, Junhui slid down in the chair and poked the waffle with the fork. “Yeah, I guess,” shrugging, he continued a little more petulantly. “I don’t like making decisions because whenever I do, things backfire on me. Remember in tenth grade, when I auditioned for the dance team? I twisted my ankle going down the stairs.”

“That’s because you were running where you weren’t supposed to.”

Ignoring him, he continued, “Junior year, I joined the floriculture club thinking it would be fun, only for the treasurer to hit on me. And the whole club got mad at me because Sunho spent all of the money on that ridiculous Prom-posal that scared me half to death.”

At that memory, Jeonghan burst into laughter. “Oh, I remember that. I’d never seen you run so fast in my entire life,” he wheezed. “What was that bouquet supposed to be again?”

Junhui leveled him a look, bottom lip protruding in a pout. “You know what it was,” he muttered. But Jeonghan feigned ignorance. He sighed, feeling his face heating up. “The moon.”

“Ah, yes,” Jeonghan nodded, laughter still wracking his frame. “Because he was the sun to your moon, and the two of you would become the brightest stars at the dance.”

“Which doesn’t make any sense! The moon isn’t a star. It’s literally _the moon!”_

Grabbing a napkin, Jeonghan wiped at his eyes. “Still, the kid even wrote you a poem.”

Junhui made a face as he remembered. “Yeah, I would have maybe considered going as friends if he didn’t spend the first half of the semester being a jerk to me.”

The older shrugged. “Some boys have the maturity of a preschooler.” At this, he gave Junhui a pointed look, and laughed when the boy stuck his tongue out at him.

“Anyway,” Junhui went on, “My point still stands. Bad things always happen to me when I make my own decisions. I’m probably cursed or something. Besides, what’s so wrong about listening to experienced people? They know what they’re talking about, so I just follow their advice.”

Jeonghan sighed a little in exasperation. “You are not cursed. And there’s nothing wrong with listening to family and friends, but you have a brain, use it. You can’t go through life waiting for things to happen, waiting for someone to come along and say ‘yes’ or ‘no’ for you.” Gently, he patted the younger's hand. “Being a grown-up means making your own decisions, even when the choice is hard.”

He pouted as he looked up. “What if I don't want to be a grown-up?”

Laughing, Jeonghan ruffled his hair, and he pretended to be annoyed. “It's a little late for that.”

He had no response, choosing to swirling the prong of his fork in the pool of syrup.

Probably feeling sorry for him, Jeonghan softened his voice. “Luckily, so far none of those decisions seemed to have caused any adverse effects on your life, which might explain why you’re so willing to wait around.” Only nodding, Junhui still focused his eyes on the half-eaten breakfast plate.

Tapping his fingers rhythmically on the table to get his attention, Jeonghan added, “It won’t stay that way forever, Junnie. Learn to make your own decision before someone else makes all the bad choices.”

 

That afternoon, Junhui stood by the kitchen counter, looking out into the yard and thinking about what Jeonghan had said. Objectively, it made sense. He couldn’t keep listening to what people told him to do, but realistically, it was so much easier to let time and/or outside forces tip the balance one way or another when it came to difficult commitments. 

Rationalizing how he should live his life was all nice and dandy, but right now he still sat on the edge of whether he should go to Serenity Port like the letter asked of him. Aside from the trepidation of going by himself to a foreign location so far from home, the weird necklace he’d found upstairs combined with the family secrets didn’t add up to a happy trip.

Could Jeonghan really blame him for taking so long to consider it? He inhaled, puffing out his cheeks, then released it with a _pop!_

Frustrated at himself, he pushed his hands through his hair. Maybe food might help. He was getting a snack out of the fridge when he noticed movement in the yard. Putting down the box of strawberries, he walked over to the glass door. Seokmin, the ten year-old next door, and his golden labrador both had their noses close to the ground, apparently looking for something around the yellow and dried shrubs that used to be tulips and daisies. Junhui slid the door open, and they jumped.

“Jun!” Seokmin exclaimed, round eyes darting from side to side. “I didn’t know you were home. I—uh, I mean, we...” He swallowed, glancing at the dog. “We lost our ball.” Afraid of having climbed the wooden fence separating his house from his neighbor’s, he lowered his eyes.

“It’s fine,” Junhui said gently, joining them in the yard. “Next time, knock on the door first.” He smiled, and the boy nodded with a grin, relieved that he wasn’t in trouble. “Let’s look over there.”

He and Seokmin walked further to where the hedge bordered the next house, but Sunshine the dog decided he wanted to start digging up the old tulip bulbs. Junhui let him have his fun and helped his owner find the rubber ball.

“Got it!” Junhui picked up the green toy and wiped the dirt off before handing it off to him.

“Awesome! Thanks, Jun!” he grinned. “Come on, Sunny!”

Barking and waging his tail, Sunshine ran up to Seokmin. The latter thanked him again, and Junhui opened the side-gate to let them out, waving enthusiastically back.

Afterward, Junhui turned back to the mess his furry neighbor made. Well, he thought, putting his hands on his hips, since Sunshine already loosened up the dirt, he might as well pull up all the dead roots and clean up a little. It had to be done at some point in this lifetime, right?

Grabbing the pair of gloves nearby, Junhui got down on his knees and began to pull up the dried stems. Halfway through the task, as he dug deeper around a particularly thick bush, his fingertips hit something hard. Curious, he used the hand rake to hasten the job. Finally, he pulled up the stems and threw them in the pile. Then he felt in the dirt for the spot, digging faster and faster until he unearthed a rusty blue box.

His brows furrowed as he stared at it in confusion. He wiped the dirt off of the surface, and recognized the design. It was an old lunchbox from his preschool days. Obviously, this belonged to his family, not something left behind from the previous owner.

Who could have buried this here, though, and since when? Hayun before she left? Or did his father bury something of hers after she had disappeared? Heart rate picking up at the prospect of potentially discovering their secrets, he dusted off the box as best as he could before taking off the gardening gloves.

With shaky hands, he undid the latch, and the lid popped open to reveal a thin stack of papers. The whole packet was tied together with a yellow ribbon, the kind with which his mom used to tie her hair. Placing a finger over the knot to keep it in place, he slid the stack out.

There was an envelope addressed to his mother’s maiden name: Yong Hayun. He put it on the lid as to not get it dirty, then examined the black and white photos which made up the rest of the content. The fact that they were black and white didn't weird him a out as much as the people’s historical attires. The group photos in color with his mother and co. were more recent, though, certainly more in style with this century's style.

The pictures were taken in a small-looking town that appeared to be in constant murky weather. Either that, or the photographer really liked to shoot on cloudy days. His mother looked about seventeen or eighteen, her hair straight and longer than he was used to seeing on her. A couple shots were with friends, he assumed, a few with an older woman whom he believed to be her mother.

His grandmother.

She looked beautiful, with kind eyes and a warm smile, always resting a protective hand on her daughter’s arm or shoulder. She passed down her dark hair to her descendants, but not her short stature. The other ladies and men in the shot must be his aunts and uncles, as they all shared similar features. He studied each face very carefully, trying to commit everyone to memory. It was very odd to see them for the first time, yet finding himself in them, making them seem less like strangers. One detail he noticed, though. While everyone smiled, none of them seemed happy.

_There’s a very good reason why your mother never mentioned her past, Jun, why she buried it and never wanted you to hear of it. It’s not a happy place._

What happened to them all? Could they be the reason why his mom left and never returned? That is, until recently, if Lee Jihoon's letter was real.

Junhui put the pictures aside and traded them for the envelope. The glue that sealed the slip had long dried, the paper thin and yellow from age. Carefully, he pulled out the semi-translucent paper and read the hastened words.

 

_Hayun,_

_Part of me hopes that this letter gets lost on its way to you because of what I am about to entreat. Something’s happened._

_You have to come home. Although at this point, I suppose Serenity Port is no longer your home, but was it ever?_

_Still... I know this is asking a lot from you, but you’re the only one who can help. There’s a way out of the Pact. Jihoon and Wonwoo are recruiting the troops right now._

_Please, hurry!_

_-Soonyoung._

 

What was the meaning of all this?

His mother hadn’t just picked up and gone who-knows-where. In actuality, she received a plea for help, quite similarly to his current situation. She had made her choice, though, and the consequences of her action prompted Lee Jihoon to send Junhui a letter with the same purpose. Both senders had the same objective: get Wen Hayun and Junhui to Serenity Port.

Suspicion kicked in, and he couldn’t push away the thoughts that these people had malicious intent. But what would their goal be if that were the case? He chewed on his bottom lip, mind racing for a solution, ignoring the knots of anxiety twisting in his belly.

The house phone rang, and he sprung to his feet, clutching the box and photos as he ran inside. The phone stopped mid-ring when he reached the living room. Not because the person on the other line hung up. On the contrary, they were relaying their message right now.

For a second, Junhui stood there dumbfounded, because he hadn't realized his father had come home from his trip. While he answered the call, Junhui glanced toward the open garage door. He supposed the older must have just gotten the car parked, and Junhui had been too distracted in the backyard to hear anything.

“Everything okay?” Junhui asked once he hung up.

“Yes, just an order confirmation,” he answered, then turned around to face his son. “Did you have a good—” His eyes shot to the metal box in the boy’s hands.

Junhui fumbled with it, at a loss of how to hide. “Dad, I—”

Immediately, his face changed color, phasing from pale mortification and slowly turning pink with outrage. “Where—How did you find that?”

Junhui’s insides trembled, and his hands shook. He hated confrontations, but he pushed on, keeping his gaze leveled with his father’s as he swallowed.

“Is this the reason why you never got around to clearing Mom's flower patch?”

“We did it to protect you,” he responded like an automated message.

“Protect me from what?” he wanted to know. “From the real reason she left? From her siblings?” He sighed and took a step closer, pleading. “Just tell me the truth, please! Whatever it is, I can handle it.”

But his father rubbed his face and shook his head, eyes stern if not dejected. “I made a promise to your mother, and I intend to keep it. Whatever you read, whatever you think you saw, forget about it.”

“What?” Baffled, Junhui stared after him as he moved past the boy, putting an end to the conversation. “Wait! Dad, you can't just—Aren't you at least going to explain?” Junhui ran after him to the stairs, but he spun around, his stare livid.

“That's enough, Junhui!” he bellowed.

Never in his entire life had he ever raised his voice at his child. Sure, when Junhui was little, he received scoldings and lectures, but this was nothing like that. His brain couldn't compute the sudden change. It felt like a whole different person stood in front of him. There was so much rage and barely restrained frustration.

“We are _not_ talking about this anymore.” The tone and finality of his words left no room for argument. Junhui gaped at him. “Now please go to your room. I'll order us some dinner in an hour.”

Terrified and more confused than ever at his reaction, Junhui kept his mouth shut as he climbed the stairs to his room with heavy steps, and an even heavier heart.

A little less than two hours later, he heard the doorbell, followed by the professor’s soft footsteps walking by his room. He could make out the sound of plates and bowls getting set down on the table, along with the clinking of utensils.

Junhui didn't come down for dinner. HuiHui kept him company as he isolated himself. He spent the rest of the evening studying the photos and the note, grateful that in his fury, his father didn't confiscate them. Spreading everything out along with the letter and necklace on his desk, he stared at the pile in hopes that they would shed some light on the matter.

Perhaps, had his father not made such a big deal out of it, if he had simply told Junhui what was going on, then the boy wouldn’t have sought for answers somewhere else. There was one thing he did make certain for him, however. He inadvertently confirmed that the note and letter were credible. Hayun, quite possibly, was still somewhere in Serenity Port.

Before sunrise, Junhui made his decision.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dun dun dunnnnn ( ⁰д⁰) lol jk. 
> 
> Why is Dad so hard set on hiding things? What does he know??? 0.0
> 
> The idea and visual of jun running away from a cheesy Promposal put up by his ex-bully is hilarious to me. Hannie is such a good friend, omj. i wish i had a Hannie in my life. 
> 
> Stuff actually happens next chapter, so hope to see you then! 
> 
> Thank you for reading! ^_^  
> xoxoxo


	3. Little Bedtime Story

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jun arrives on the island and runs into very interesting people, who refuse to answer any of his questions. He also learns that some bedtime stories are meant to keep you awake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before we get started, I'd like to apologize for the deaths mentioned ˚‧º·(˚ ˃̣̣̥⌓˂̣̣̥ )‧º·˚ I don't know _what_ my problem is, I'm just a terrible person, I guess. 
> 
> On the bright side, WONWOO FINALLY SHOWS UP ｡:.ﾟヽ(*´∀`)ﾉﾟ.:｡.ﾟ
> 
> -

 

 

The ferryboat neared the shore, and Junhui caught his first glimpses of Serenity Port and its inhabitants. The small harbor was filled with fishing boats of all sizes, most of them moored and empty of the crew. Seeing as it was already mid afternoon, understandably, the fish had already been caught, packed, and sold for the day. Seagulls circled the cloudy sky, squawking at each other noisily.

While the weather wasn’t freezing, it felt very cold and wet. The perpetual overcast weather didn’t allow any sunlight to hit the ground to offer any kind of warmth, nor offer much of a welcoming atmosphere. At least the rain let up. For now.

As the boat got closer to land, his stomach twisted painfully. He took in a big gulp of the salty sea air, holding on to the cold metal railing for support as the weight of the situation finally settled. He really was about to set foot on Amarut Island and follow up on Lee Jihoon's letter. All of the secrecy and obscurity surrounding his mother would soon come to light. At least he hoped so.

Since the discovery of that metal box in his mother’s garden, it had taken Junhui a week to sort out his affairs and head out for the trip. He sincerely hoped it wasn’t in vain. There was no telling what he would find here, and honestly, he wasn’t even sure where to begin. Since Lee Jihoon didn’t leave a return address, Junhui hadn’t been able to contact him and let him know that he was coming. It really felt like he was on his own. The thought caused a shiver to run down his spine, and he hugged his arms closer, gripping the long sleeves over his fingers for warmth.

The captain rung the bell to signal their arrival. On board, aside from the crew, the were only a handful of passengers. Late fall wasn't exactly the peak of vacation time, so it made sense; Junhui was just glad he wasn't the only one traveling. There was a family of three, made up of young parents and a toddler, and an elderly couple carrying too many cameras. Both groups appeared to be tourists.

The ferryboat docked, and the crew lowered the plank for everyone to reach the boardwalk. The tourists and Junhui stood as a small group before the boat, waiting for their luggage to be brought out as well. As the crew fetched their belongings, Junhui looked around the harbor, hoping that something would give him a clue for what to do next. Or at least be able to spot someone friendly enough that he could talk to. Without trying to look too conspicuous, he let his gaze travel.

The fishermen that remained on their ships now did some housekeeping, untangling nets and ropes, scrubbing the deck, and preparing for the next fishing trip early tomorrow morning. On land, the few locals that he could spot—passerby and merchants—didn’t seem all that interested in the new arrivals. While Junhui didn’t have personal experience in the matter, it was usually the case that businesses enjoyed having visitors. Here, they remained thoroughly impassive to the little group. In fact, they didn’t even seem to be interacting with each other. Odd, he thought, but his thoughts didn’t linger on the matter.

Their apparent indifference to everyone but themselves aside, they each sported rain gear. It ranged from simply carrying an umbrella, or a full rain suit and knee-high galoshes. He glanced at the somber sky, hoping a downpour wasn’t in the forecast just yet.He’ll need to find a hotel as soon as he could.

Sweeping the surrounding with his eyes, Junhui couldn’t help but feel a heavy weight on his chest. The harbor and the air all felt so forlorn and gray, without any real spark of life. The people moved about their daily activities not because they enjoyed what they did, but rather just went through the motions. Their steps were slow, the movement lethargic, not a smile to be seen. The rhythmic crashes of the waves on the hulls of the boats and the quiet whispers of the sea accentuated the loneliness and isolation of the island. The longer he stood there taking it all in, the less he could understand how his mother could have grown up here. She was everything this place wasn’t.

A strong and icy gust of wind blew across the boardwalk, pulling the hood of his jacket off of his head. Junhui grabbed the hem just before it fell all the way back, brushing out the strands of brown hair out of his face. As he moved, he noticed a red figure in the corner of his eye. It seemed so out of place among the monotonous grays and blues that he turned toward the streets to take a closer look, immediately latching on to the first spark of life.

The red color was attributed to a hoodie the figure wore. Because of the distance and parked cars between him and the person, that was basically all Junhui could make out. The person was male, though, that he could determine, with a black beanie pulled low over his forehead. He was talking to someone in the alley; that person was also male, with black hair and a muddy colored coat, turned away from the street.

As if sensing that he was being watched, the man in the red hoodie glanced up. Quickly, Junhui looked upward, as if merely admiring the architecture of the old buildings the man was standing next to. Inconspicuously as he could manage, Junhui swept his gaze upward until it hit the dark sky and turned his back on the two men, pretending to be engrossed in the crew as they finally unloaded all the suitcases. Hopefully that was enough to deter the men from paying him attention.

He walked forward, grabbing his duffle bag and swung it over his shoulder. Then he took his time finding the latch to pull up the handle of his roll-on case. Next to him, the mom held tightly the hand of the toddler as he struggled to pull her toward the sailboat on the other end of the harbor. The dad, rolling two large suitcases, stopped finding the rest of their luggage and picked the child up in his arms. The elderly couple smiled at the scene, asking if the young couple needed help. Junhui took that opportunity to blend into the group, sneaking a quick peek to see if the men had left. It was embarrassing enough to have been caught staring, he didn’t want to have to face them. What if they were hooligans?

Fortunately, they were gone, and Junhui let out a sigh of relief. Saying goodbye to the group, he tugged his case with him toward one of the benches looking out to the sea. Sitting down, he retrieved the blue metal box from his bag and went through his mom’s pictures. One of these young men had to be Soonyoung, he thought. In that letter, he mentioned someone named Jihoon, surely the same person who wrote to Junhui. What were the odds that his mother new two people with the same name, right? If Junhui asked around, he was sure someone could direct him to either Soonyoung or Jihoon.

Pictures in hand, he headed for town, keeping an eye out for agreeable passerby willing to help. The more he walked, though, the rarer they seemed to get. Every time he came up to someone, bright smile and polite greeting at the ready, they either completely ignored him and moved past him, or they purposely turned around and took another path.  _How mean._

He could understand not wanting to be pestered by solicitors, but this was plain rude. Shaking his head, he erased the pout from his face. He kept walking the quasi empty cobblestone streets, peeking inside the small shops, hoping to find a friendly face. But no such luck. While the architecture and scenery were beautiful, the lack of people and the gloomy weather gave him chills.

Finally, Junhui arrived in front of a bookstore with yellow light, which made it seem a little less intimidating. He stopped in front of the shop vitrine and peered inside. A middle aged man sat at the desk in the corner, completely engrossed in his reading. Behind him and on either sides of him, the walls seemed to be entirely made out of books. Judging by the stacks on the ground, all that space still wasn’t enough to contain all the knowledge and adventures told in those pages.

Taking in a deep breath to ready himself in case the owner threw him out, Junhui pushed open the door. The little bell hanging overhead made the man look up. He didn’t smile, but he didn’t tell the boy to leave, either, so Junhui cautiously made his way inside, letting the door close softly behind him. The owner still didn’t speak and kept staring at him, expecting him to do the talking first. Obviously, he could tell the customer wasn’t from here.

“Uh, he—hello, sir,” Junhui stammered, clearing his throat as he fidgeted and bowed. “I’m wondering if you could help me find someone.”

“This isn’t the police station,” he said in a matter of fact manner, pushing his small reading glasses up his nose. The sharp tone made the younger wince, but he fisted his sleeves and tried again.

“Yes, I realize that, sir,” Junhui answered, flustered, “I was just...” Shaking his head, he waved the issue away. “Never mind. I’m sorry for bothering you.”

As Junhui turned to go with a bow, the owner stopped him. “Hold on,” he sighed, taking off his glasses and rubbing the bridge of his nose, before putting them back on. “Who are you looking for?”

Junhui smiled so wide, his cheeks ached. The relief of finally getting a break felt exhilarating. He walked up to the large desk and showed him the picture of his mom with her family. “Do you know any of these people?”

“Sure,” the man said, “But if you’re looking for them I’m afraid you’re out of luck.”

“What do you mean?”

He pointed at his mother’s face. “With the exception of Hayun, the kids and Bora passed away several years ago.”

A wave of sadness washed over him, and his excitement vanished. Even though he never knew them, he still felt a pang of regret, and mostly sympathy for his mom's loss. Pushing away the emotions, he pulled up the next picture of her with her friends.

“How about them? Are they still... around?”

The bookshop keeper took a look. “Last I heard, Alice and Isabella are buried at Cullen Memorial.”

Junhui winced. “What about the men? Is one of them named Soonyoung?”

Nodding, the owner tapped above the head of the young man standing next to Hayun. He looked about Junhui’s age or maybe younger in the shot, with black hair and squinty but bright eyes. “Kwon Soonyoung. But he’s, uh. He’s gone, too.”

Junhui’s shoulders sagged. What could have happened? Was it linked to the reason why he had asked Hayun to return to the island? Why did it seem like every time Junhui believed he’d found a clue, he stumbled upon a dead end instead?

As if sensing his frustration and helplessness, the bookshop owner added, “His father owns the repair shop three blocks from here.”

“They’re still in town?” Junhui asked, hope flaring anew.

“Of course! Where else would they be?”

Confusion pulled his brows together. Before Junhui had the chance to ask him what he meant, a loud crack of lightning flashed, causing the lights inside the shop to flicker for a moment. Soon, the booming of thunder echoed, making the boy tremble.

“You better hurry along,” he advised when Junhui turned back to face him. “Getting caught in the rain around here is no picnic. Just continue straight on this street for...” he paused, thinking it over. “Count thirteen street lamps and take a left. You should see the Kwon’s shop right away.”

“Thank you!” Junhui gathered the pictures and his suitcase.

“What did you say your name was?”

Stopping by the door, he glanced back. “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t. My name’s Junhui.” He bowed and smiled.

“Junhui,” the shop owner repeated, studying him with an unreadable look. “Good luck with your search.”

“Thank you,” he said again, going out and braving the cold.

If Junhui had thought that the streets looked eerie before, he hadn’t seen anything yet. With the approaching risk of rain, they were completely empty, not a single soul anywhere. The clouds had accumulated thicker overhead, darkening the sky. The wind howled and shrieked as it swirled the leafless trees and gray buildings. Goosebumps rose on his skin despite the several layers of clothes, and he wasn’t positive that it was simply due to the weather. Glancing behind him, he made sure he wasn’t being watched. Even when he saw no one, it didn’t dispel the prickling on his neck. Shaking the paranoid notion away for now, he hurried up the street, counting the lamps as he went.

The rain began to patter by the time he reached the Kwon’s shop. The lights were off inside, much like the rest of the establishments around him. Knocking on the glass amounted to no response despite the sign indicating the shop was open. He hesitated, chewing on his lip. The town was unwelcome enough as it were, he didn’t need to get into more trouble by going where he wasn't supposed to. 

Alas, it quickly started to rain harder, and he was getting soaked by the second. He lifted a hand to wipe the water dripping down his face, then tried pushing on the handle. Fortunately, it budged, and he released a relieved breath. Thankful for the small stroke of luck, he pushed the door open and slipped inside. He could hardly see anything in the hazy lighting as he slowed his steps lest he slipped. A flash of lightning let him glimpse at the setup, and it looked like any other repair shop.

“H-hello?” he called hesitantly, feeling for his phone. “Excuse me, is anyone here?”

No one answered.

He turned on the flashlight and used it to navigate through the shelves toward the door that separated the shop and the other room. Maybe the owner was back there. He called out a few more times; however, only the squeaks of his shoes on the laminal floor echoed back. As he passed the wall lining the register, he paused. Several pictures hung there, and upon a closer look, he recognized Soonyoung surrounded by people assumed to be the young man’s family. The face that caught Junhui’s attention, though, was his mother’s. With slight trepidation, he went around the counter and leaned close to the picture. Sure enough, his mother stood among the Kwons.  _This confirmed that these people knew her!_ he thought with a spark of joy and gladness.

Something hard dug into his back, right in between his shoulder blades. At the same moment, he heard a gun being cocked. Junhui froze, eyes widening in realization. What little glee he’d gathered disintegrated into ash, and all the blood drained from his face. He could hardly breathe.

“I usually make it a habit to shoot thieves on site,” an aged, rough voice said. “But since you don’t look like the usual hooligan, I’m going to give you a chance to identify yourself.”

Taking in a deep breath, Junhui tried to find his voice. His hands shook so much, he had to fist them tightly, nails biting through the sleeves and into his palms.

“M-my name’s Wen Junhui. I’m not trying to steal from you.”

“Not anymore, you’re not!” he exclaimed with a huff, digging the barrel of the gun deeper.

Wincing, Junhui croaked out, “Please, sir.” The fear rising in his throat made it harder to breathe. “I'm only trying to find someone.”

Perhaps picking up on the panic, the weapon lowered, but the man still stood in place. “Turn around.”

Slowly, Junhui put his hands in the air and obeyed. When the older finally got a good look at him, though, his face paled and his eyes bulged. Junhui didn’t understand why, but it seemed safer to remain quiet, especially when the gun was still pointing at him. After the initial shock, the owner squinted at him, as if not believing what he was seeing. Junhui was sure he looked like a wet cat right now: slender frame trembling, hair plastered to his forehead, his jacket and jeans dripping water onto the floor, skin blanched from the cold and fear. He really couldn’t imagine what caused the man’s reaction. All Junhui could focus on was the barrel of the gun still pointed at him. He swallowed.

A bustle and a shout came from the back of the shop, startling Junhui half to death. Instinctively, he covered his ears and cowered at the sudden shout.

“Hwan! What are you doing? Put that blasted gun down!”

A middled-aged, black haired woman ran out of the back room toward them. A second later, the lights flickered on. Junhui flinched, but kept his eyes open as best as he could to see what was happening. Knowing exactly what she was doing, she grabbed the man’s arm and pulled it down, yanking the weapon from his grasp at the same time.

“You cannot just shoot people!” she chastised him, and he grumbled something incomprehensible.

“You're going to have to excuse my husband, dear,” the woman told him, although she stared at her spouse with a reprimanded expression and her hands on her hips. “His vision has never been that good, and he is much too quick to judge people.”

She glanced at the boy briefly to acknowledge his presence, then really addressed her husband. “You cannot point a loaded weapon at anyone who comes in here! And would you please fix the circuit breakers? Every time a storm strikes, we have to reset the whole building.”

“First,” Hwan argued, “my eyes are perfectly fine. Secondly, would you stop talking nonsense for a minute and look at him?”

“Why? The poor child must be terrified right now. You're the one I should be keeping an eye on.”

“Minji!” he shouted to get her attention. “Look at the boy!”

As she muttered something about him being an old goat, she did turn her head to see what the fuss was about. Junhui wanted to know what was going on, too, so he kept quiet as Minji's eyes widened, and her jaw hung open.

“Dear heavens,” she whispered, hand covering her mouth. “You look just like her.” Her voice was barely audible over the loud rain drops hitting the roofs and windows. “You're Hayun’s son, aren’t you?”

Junhui fidgeted under the assessing stares, but nodded, unsure how to respond, glancing from husband and wife.

Her grip was firm but gentle as she shook his arm. “What are you doing here? Neither one of you should’ve come!”

His heart raced at the suggestion that his mother was close by. “Do you know where she is?”

The couple shared a look, and she replied with the same tone his parents had used when Junhui was four as they explained the reason his goldfish stopped swimming. “No, dear, nobody’s seen her for almost a month now.”

Before Junhui’s emotions could be sorted out, Hwan interrupted.

“How could you even have found your way to town?” he asked, perplexed. The way he pulled his eyebrows together when he asked the question told him that it wasn't just about finding this shop. It was about knowing the existence of Serenity Port at all.

Since the weapon was gone, and he no longer considered the boy a threat, Junhui gently pulled the letter and pictures from his bag to show them.

“About two weeks ago, I received this letter. Then I found—”

“Soonyoung’s letter,” Minji finished the sentence sadly as she saw the small note accompanying the pictures. “I’m sorry, dear. He never should’ve contacted your mother.”

His mouth opened to ask what happened after his mother arrived in town in response to Soonyoung’s plea for help, but then Hwan exclaimed, “This is not possible!” In his hand, the old man held the other letter, which he waved frantically in the air. “Lee Jihoon was found dead two years ago!”

Now his head was swimming in confusion and anxiety. If Lee Jihoon was dead, then who wrote to him? Fear shot an icy jolt down his spine, and he shivered.

“But who else could have known that Hayun had a son?” Minji asked, and once again, Junhui was struck by their use of the past tense in relation to his mother. “She didn't even tell us.”

“It doesn't matter.” Her husband shook his head. “What matters is that the boy’s presence here is against the agreement.” He turned to Junhui’s confused face. “You have to go home before they figure out you’re here.”

“Before who knows I'm here?” Junhui wanted to know, brows pulling together. “What agreement are you talking about? Why can’t I be here?”

Ignoring the questions, Minji put a gentle hand on his arm. “He’s right, dear. The faster you go home, the safer you’ll be. Our family owes your mother a lot, and the least we can do is keep you safe while you’re here. The next ferry for the mainland leaves at 8:00 in the morning. We will drive you there and get you a ticket.”

“But I-”

“You need to go home.”

Her words were final. There was nothing Junhui could say to make them change their minds. In fact, he was already being led by the elbow by Minji toward the stairs, which he learned led to their living space. She told him he could stay in Soonyoung’s old room, and opened the door at the end of the hallway. She left him there alone, closing the door as she went out.

The small room had a fireplace, a desk, a closet, and a bed. The bare walls were tainted with light and dark silhouettes, as if whatever used to hang there had been taken down and put away. He peeked inside one of the desk drawers and saw that it was empty. He supposed it was only natural that they would want to conserve their son’s memories and save them from weather damage. With a defeated sigh, he sat on the chair.

This is what failure felt like.

He wished HuiHui were here.

Outside, the rain roared on, accentuated by strikes of lightning. The floor boards creaked under his feet as he made his way across the old room. He stood at the window, looking out at the empty streets. The rain was so severe, the splashes made it difficult to make out any detail.

“I’m sorry, Mom,” he whispered against the pane. The glass fogged up from his breath, and he drew a frowning cat. The rain drops sliding down made it look like tears. Sighing sadly, he backed away and changed out of the soaked clothes.

A few minutes later came soft knocking at the door. Minji poked her head inside.

“Let me start a fire for you, so you can lay those clothes out to dry.”

“Thank you,” he said, glancing at the pile of wet clothes. He took his jacket and hung it over the back of the chair and pushed it closer as the orange flames quickly flaring up. He stood in front of the hearth, putting his frozen hands out in the hopes of thawing them out.

“You’re welcome, dear.” Sighing like a heavy weight had landed on her shoulders, she headed for the door.

“Could you... Could you explain to me what happened?” he asked tentatively, tugging at his bottom lip. To keep himself busy, he started to drape the rest of his clothes on the chair and bed frame.

She hesitated on the threshold, pondering whether she should tell him everything or let him go back home just as ignorant as he was. Eventually, she made up her mind and spoke slowly, her expression weary as she leaned on the door frame to look at him.

“Due to a cruel twist of fate, every resident of Serenity Port is condemned to stay prisoners of this island indefinitely. Your mother did the impossible when she was eighteen and met your father: she escaped. If it hadn’t been for Soonyoung contacting her, she would have had a long and happy life with you and your father.” Minji sighed, imploring him with her eyes. “I sincerely apologize, dear.”

Not knowing how to respond to both the information and her guilt, Junhui merely nodded. This would take some time to process. He still didn't understand all the fear and secrecy.

“It’s all his fault,” she mumbled angrily, almost inaudible. “Filling my son’s head with all those ideas, wanting to change what cannot possibly be altered.” Glancing up, she waved her finger in the air. “Not only is he behind Hayun’s return, he’s to be held responsible for Soonyoung’s death, as well. He got him killed!”

“Who?”

“His best friend, Jeon Wonwoo.” She walked back into the room and rounded the bed to reach the waste basket. Pulling out an old picture frame, she handed it to him. “It was too painful to keep,” she explained as he looked at it.

Junhui knew by sight two of the four faces, Hayun’s and Soonyoung’s. Next to them stood a shorter boy with lighter hair sharing a few similar features with Soonyoung, and a young man in a red hoodie. Junhui recognized it instantly.

He wasn’t wearing his wool hat here, so he looked much less threatening. With short, disheveled, black hair that slightly fell over his forehead, he smiled faintly. He had an angular jaw with faint stubbles, a straight nose, and a high forehead. The features that drew Junhui in, though, were his eyes. They were so sharp and piercing, he couldn’t stop staring at him. Like his red jacket in the midst of the gray harbor, the similar spark of life set him apart from the rest of the people photographed.

Taking his mind off of those vibrant irises for a second, Junhui remembered Minji’s comment. It must be extremely hurtful looking at a photo like this, knowing the outcome of the subjects’ lives. Even more so when one person was apparently responsible for the disappearance of the other two.

A soft knock echoed, and the two glanced up at the open door. The shorter boy from the picture now stood across the room.

“I apologize for interrupting,” he excused himself, addressing Minji, “Would you like me to start getting dinner ready?”

“Oh, yes. Thank you,” Minji nodded, then introduced the boys to each other. “Honey, this is Wen Junhui. Junhui, my younger son, Chan.”

“Pleased to meet you,” he said with a smile, and Junhui did the same. Chan, unlike his brother, had an air of maturity surrounding him. Not unfriendly at all, but more serious and pensive.

“Nice to meet you, too.”

As the two left, Minji asked him to join them for dinner in an hour. Junhui thanked them, then sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the fire. When his eyes began to burn from the light, he picked up the frame and studied the photograph, trying to make sense of the little information he had. The more he looked at it, though, the more twisted everything turned. To the point where he had to ponder if he hadn’t gone completely insane.

How could Chan look just as old as he did in this picture when it must have been taken at least thirty-five years ago? If he went by his mother’s age, Hayun looked about eighteen in all these photos, and she would have turned fifty-four this year. It was impossible, much the same way that the dead couldn’t write letters from the grave. And it wasn’t merely Chan. Jeon Wonwoo, even when Junhui only saw a glimpse of him earlier in the day, couldn’t have been thirty-five years older than he was in this picture, which put him in his mid twenties. What was going on here? Moreover, what in the world did Minji mean by being prisoners of the island indefinitely—were they somehow frozen in time?

_No no no._ This wasn’t some book or movie. But then, what could possibly explain all the strangeness?

Frustrated, Junhui groaned and pushed himself to his feet to pace back and forth, hands running wildly through his hair. No matter how much he thought of alternatives, nothing even remotely reasonable and logical appeared.

His questions remained unanswered as he went down to dinner later on. It shouldn’t have surprised him that they served fish. Despite the freshness and delicious way it was prepared, Junhui couldn’t enjoy the food, mind racing with confusion and worries. Especially when he glimpsed at their faces and pondered the idea that time really stood frozen on the island. Still, he kept his thoughts to himself as he shared their meal. They were all very quiet, and he had to wonder if they usually ate dinner in silence, or if he was the cause. In any case, they were very polite as they bid their guest goodnight, telling him Chan would drive him to the harbor in the morning.

By the time Junhui went upstairs, the rain had let up, but it was still cold. He added some firewood, stoking the fire, and warmed up within a few minutes. Down the hall, he heard the family’s footsteps as they went to their rooms, turning in for the night. He checked his phone. It was barely 9 o’clock. Even on a daily basis he couldn’t sleep this early. To kill the time, he went to the window and sat at the small alcove, looking out on the sad and empty streets below, made even more so by the dripping rain drops from the gray branches. The yellow glow of the street lamps didn’t seem to help chase away the shadows nor the forlornness that seemed to be a permanent part of the island.

He checked his phone again, writing a quick reminder to Jeonghan about upholding the lies if his dad ever tried to check his whereabouts.

Of course, the older asked if he had found anything out, among other questions. However, how could Junhui give him answers when he didn’t have them himself? To reply, he simply said he hadn’t had a chance to investigate yet. The response seemed to satisfy him.

 

**Hannie** **ʚ** **(´** ◡ **`)** **ɞ** **:**

Stay safe, Junnie. Be careful who you listen to

Come home soon

 

☾  **Jun:**

I will, dw. goodnight

  

He wasn’t sure how long he sat there until he noticed the figure leaning against the building across the street. The person hid under the roof to avoid the icy whirls of mist rolling in. Or were they hiding from the light?

While their identity remained shrouded in the dark surrounding them, Junhui sat in a lit room, which meant he was in full view of the stranger. And from his position, he was almost positive they were staring right at him. A shudder passed through his core. Time for bed, clearly.

As Junhui was about to move deeper into the room, the figured pushed away from the wall and walked across the street. Junhui watched them in curiosity, wondering where they were going. Finally, the dim light hit the stranger, and Junhui saw the black beanie and red hoodie.

Sitting frozen in place, Junhui stared with round eyes as he approached the shop and stood right below the boy’s window. The latter swallowed, stomach twisted into knots. This person had known his mother, and if Junhui were to believe Minji, he was to blame for Hayun leaving her family, as well. Junhui needed to know for sure. He needed real answers that weren’t just vague statements. Something told him the man would divulge more than the Kwons if Junhui asked the right questions.

He was still standing there in the street, looking up at the boy above. Before Junhui could change his mind, he grabbed his damp jacket and slid out of the shop.

Seeing him sneak out, he strode closer to the building, and the pair stopped midway under the awning. Enough light coming from the street spilled over to see where to step in order to not fall, but not enough to catch any detail of his companion. Still, Junhui stood there, unsure what to do now that he had left the room. Where to start?

Swallowing the anxiety, he gripped his sleeves. “Are you... Jeon Wonwoo?” he asked tentatively, his breath curling out as a white puff.

“I am.” His voice was deep. A lot deeper than Junhui expected, and his tummy felt funny. “What can I do for you?” he asked casually, as if they were standing in a store instead of the middle a darkened street corner.

Despite the limited lighting, Jeon Wonwoo definitely didn’t look a day older than twenty-something. How? What was he even doing here tonight? Junhui was curious, but there were more pressing matters he wanted answered.

“My name’s—”

“I know who you are,” he cut in, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Anyone with eyes could tell.”

The combination of his beanie pulled low and the dim lighting made it impossible for Junhui to determine his expression. His words made him wonder, though, if the bookshop keeper had also known.

Refusing to be distracted, Junhui shook his head and continued. “You knew my mother,” he asserted, heartbeat starting to race.

Nodding, the other confirmed it. “I did.”

“Where is she?”

“I don’t know.”

“Why did you ask her to come back?”

“I didn’t. Soonyoung did,” he corrected, an edge to his voice. 

Junhui gritted his teeth and sucked in a deep breath. He will not stomp his foot, but boy, did he want to. “But you do know the reason she left the island thirty-five years ago.”

Wonwoo nodded.

“Why?” he enunciated the word.

Pausing for a moment, Wonwoo cocked his head to the side and said, “Let’s take a walk, and I’ll tell you a little bedtime story.” He didn’t wait for Junhui. He simply turned around and headed down the street, confident the boy would follow.

By the time Junhui made his feet move, Wonwoo was already far ahead. He jogged to his side, falling into step with him. As if Junhui had followed him from the beginning, he began the story.

“Long ago, the inhabitants of Serenity Port lived prosperously with abundant fish and shellfish to export and plenty to consume. As time grew, so did their greed. They ravaged the ocean, scooped up and sold every creature that could bring them money.”

He led Junhui through the town square. Here, the lights were a little brighter than in the residential area, and the boy recognized the Town Hall building from his Google search.

“One day, the men returned with empty nets and crates,” Wonwoo continued. “The sea had run out of fish. Much too soon after that day, the soil they used to farm turned tough, and nothing could grow. Hunger set in, and people became desperate. They robbed and killed each other for food under the cover of the night. Every day, bodies were discovered, and the food supply ran dangerously low.

“The mayor called for a meeting at the Town Hall, and he advised that perhaps the best solution would be to leave Serenity Port behind and move away. His suggestion was met with contempt and rage as none of the townspeople wanted to abandon their home, and most importantly, their wealth. For while food was scarce, the earth was full of gold and silver. ‘Then we’ll use the precious metals to trade for supplies and food!’ the mayor said, but once again, the townspeople refused to listen to reason. They were much too attached to their gold and silver to give it away, even if it would mean receiving food and warm clothes.”

“How come the mayor didn’t love his gold and silver, too?” Junhui asked softly, noticing the pair were headed toward the sea as it peeked through the gaps between buildings.

Keeping his eyes forward, Wonwoo replied, “He lived on the highest hill of the island, and he was always so busy with work that he had never gotten the chance to dig in his backyard. Therefore, he didn’t understand.”

It amazed him how Wonwoo spoke in story-verse, drawing him into the story as they descended the slope, the sea just on the other side of the row of houses.

“So then what happened?”

“A fight broke out between two families, and the mayor feared that more people were going to be hurt, so he tried to break them apart. Suddenly, the doors flung open, startling everyone. A short man wearing a brown cloak hobbled in, dragging his bad leg along. No one could really see his face, although they were certain he was hideous under the hood. He made his way slowly down the aisle to the front, and the mayor stepped away to see what the man wanted to say. ‘I have the solution to your problem,’ he claimed. ‘I will bring back the fish, make trees grow tall and strong, and return everything to the way it was. In exchange, I ask that each person sign the agreement citing that you will provide me shelter and food.’

“The crowd rejoiced and agreed wholeheartedly. They signed the contract and all went home. The next day, they woke up to find their groves full of big, strong trees; the farmers rejoiced seeing their animals alive and healthy; the fishermen caught more fish than ever, and of course, their treasure remained untouched. Everything the man had promised came true. People were surprised, however, when the stranger was nowhere to be found. They didn’t think very much about it, too busy celebrating. For a while, life was wonderful.”

Somehow, Wonwoo found his way in the dark, and they reached the cliffs looking out to the sea. At this point, he took out a small flashlight and swept the beam in front of them as they ventured farther out, closer to the ledge. He paused the story for a moment as they watched the waves crash into the sand below them. Although all the way out here, they heard the waves more than they could see them.

Far on the coast, a lighthouse illuminated the beach intermittently. Junhui had only been out to the beach at night once, and it had been during a bonfire his third year in college. Had it not been for the fire, it would’ve been pitch black. Now thanks to the beams of lights, it wasn’t quite that dark, but enough to make him feel nervous standing on the edge of the cliffs with a stranger. Belatedly, Junhui considered that blindly trusting this unknown person wasn’t the brightest idea.

As if he could sense his companion’s trembles, Wonwoo resumed the story, his soft narration easing the anxiety a little.

“Slowly, people realized that something was amiss. For one, children didn’t grow, and adults didn’t age. They also noticed that they couldn’t leave the island, although they could send and receive shipments from the mainland. The town got very worried again. The following day, the stranger reappeared.

“They asked him many questions, but he only responded that it had been what they wished for. Since they loved their gold and silver so much, they would never be able to leave. The people shouted in outrage, demanding to annul the contract. Unfortunately, it was too late. The stranger explained, ‘When you signed the Pact, you signed away your very lives to me. You will stay just the way you are for as long as I please. Now I have come to ask for payment. Every third Wednesday evening at exactly 6 o’clock, you will bring four mortals to Blackrock Beach. Every time you fail to provide them to me, someone will die.’

“The men rushed in, trying to catch him, but he vanished into thin air. The ones who had paid close attention were very much frightened as they remembered what he had made them promise the first time: that they would feed him. They realized that he was not merely a sorcerer, but a monster. How will they meet his demands? They couldn’t possibly feed him four of their own friends and family. So they came up with a solution: they would lure tourists and take them to Blackrock Beach.”

His breathing raced as Junhui looked over to him. Wonwoo didn’t turn, but he could sense the other’s gaze on him.

Gesturing at the beach, Wonwoo stated, “That’s Blackrock Beach.” His voice had turned hard, all traces of the storyteller gone.

With the sharp change in his voice, Junhui was forced to backpedal. The story… was real? _That_ was the reason everything seemed so messed up and strange? Even if he didn’t want to believe it, he had to. What else could it be? Why else would Wonwoo tell him this story?

His throat felt dry; he couldn’t breathe.

Abruptly, Wonwoo turned on his heels. The beam from the flashlight swung around the way they had come.

“Wait!” Junhui cried, taking a step forward. “Hasn’t anyone tried to stop this monster? Or...” His voice dropped as he didn’t know what else to say, completely lost.

Wonwoo stopped, and Junhui heard him inhale. “A few brave people did. Your grandmother and her children were among them.”

Immediately, Junhui thought back to the bookshop keeper. _The kids and Bora passed away several years ago._ But did they pass away naturally or were they killed? No wonder his mother never talked about her past. It was filled with nothing but horrible and unbelievable events. That, however, begged the question: how _did_ she manage to escape if everyone was cursed to remain on the island indefinitely?

Junhui voiced his question aloud, but Wonwoo shook his head. “It’s late. You should go back before anyone realizes you’re out here.”

Wonwoo made it clear that he no longer wished to speak by turning his back to him; they walked back in silence. Junhui was too bewildered to come up with more questions, trying instead to piece together the few answers he did have.

At the repair shop, Wonwoo stood back as Junhui went to the door. “Sleep tight.” Then he left without another word.

Upstairs, Junhui looked out the window to see the rain starting up again.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The plot thickens! Well, actually, at this point, it's barely thicker than broth... Maybe halfway to chowder? (WTF am i even going with this metaphor??? idek...)
> 
> WONWOO!!! \\(*0*)/ Playing up the creepy card this time. I was gonna scold Jun for following a complete stranger in the middle of the night to the _cliffs!_ but then it's Jeon Wonwoo, and can you really blame him??? ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> Once again, I am sorry for SoonHoon... But! They do appear in flashbacks, and it's not like they're roving spirits or anything. They knew what they were getting into... As we shall find out 0.0
> 
> At any rate, now that we've got the ball rolling, i guess I'll go back to posting once a week. Like I said, this fic is only half the length of THOY, with about 25-ish chapters? I'm still working on the Epilogue, so we'll play it by ear. Sounds good? 
> 
> Like always, Thank you for reading! Feel free to ask questions if things don't make sense! ^_^  
> See you next week!  
> xoxoxo


	4. Friendly Advice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wonwoo finally gives Jun some answers about his family lineage, and WonHui start investigating.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Birthday to the best leader ever! Happy LeaderCoups Day!!! (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧
> 
> Fun fact! When I was naming the places in the story, I tried to keep it SVT-themed, hence Serenity (also couldn't resist the irony) Port. Amarut Island is actually TRAUMA with the letters switched around. I know, I'm the cleverest (◔◡◔✿)
> 
> And we finally get some real WonHui time this chapter! Yayyyyyy!!! ٩(^ᴗ^)۶
> 
> -

 

 

Morning came very slowly. After Junhui had come back from the walk to the cliffs, he had laid in bed staring at the ceiling, unable to sleep until past 2:00am. The story’s narration kept replaying in his head. The more he thought about it, the more difficult it was for him to believe it as something real that actually took place. Unfortunately, logic didn’t work very well in this town, it seemed. If the narration could be taken literally, then it would set the timeline back at least a couple hundred years when the curse hit. Obviously, no one here _looked_ that old, which suggested that while the infrastructure changed with time, the people stayed frozen at the age that the Pact was signed.

_Holy shoot!_ That took him a moment to wrap his mind around.

At any rate, for now, he had a basic understanding of this town and what plagued it, but how did his mom fit into all of this?

No one was willing to tell him what happened to her once she returned to Serenity Port, or how she could have left the island if horrible things happened to those who did. Junhui tossed around in the bed, glancing out the window at the cloudy sky. It was still dark out, and if it weren’t for his phone, he wouldn’t have known that morning had technically come. As it were winter, getting up before the sun was a usual occurrence.

He stayed in bed an additional ten minutes to think of what he should do. The larger part of himself wanted— _needed_ —to stay to figure out how this tale related to his mother and her disappearance. He needed to learn of her fate, of what had happened to her. If he hadn’t known about this very large piece of her past, he could’ve overlooked it and pretended that this trip came to naught. But after last night’s walk...

Sighing, he turned to his side. The prospect of staying terrified him, though. Especially when the Kwons and Jeon Wonwoo spooked him with warnings about _people_ learning of his presence in town. What if Junhui was caught and fed to that monster? A shiver crept up his spine at the thought, and he shuddered, pulling the thick blanket over his head to hide under it.

Going home would be best, wouldn’t it? What would happen to his dad if Junhui didn’t come back, either? He couldn’t abandon the older man on his own. Besides, even if Junhui decided to stay, where would he live? The Kwons made it clear they wanted their guest out of here as soon as possible. Abusing their hospitality, even if they claimed they owed Hayun a lot—would be wrong.

“I’m sorry, Mom,” he whispered into the pillow. “I don’t know what to do.” His throat tightened, and his eyes stung. He blinked the errant tears from his face and got up. There was no point crying about it. He had to get moving, regardless of whether he decided to stay or leave.

Out in the hall, after having gotten washed up, he ran into Chan.

“Oh, good morning,” the younger smiled, running a hand through his bedhead.

“Hi, good morning,” Junhui reciprocated with a wave.

They walked downstairs together. “Sorry for being such a bother,” he apologized as the boy got him a cup of coffee.

“You’re no bother,” he reassured him, pouring himself a cup as well, along with sugar and cream. Sitting quietly at the table for a moment, Chan told him, “Your mom and I used to go to school together, you know. It was strange to see her again, all grown up.” He punctuated the sentence with a fond smile and soft chuckle, then frowned. “I’m really sorry for what happened.”

Junhui nodded, then tried to get some answers once again. “What exactly happened?”

He shrugged, putting both hands around the warm mug. “I wish I could give you an answer, but no one knows for sure. Soonyoung kept it very secret, but from what he told me, they had figured out some way to free the town from er... its current situation.”

“They?”

“Soonyoung, Hayun, Jihoon, and Wonwoo.” At the mention of the latter’s name, Chan cleared his throat, lowering his eyes to the cup.

Idly for a second, Junhui wondered if Chan also blamed Wonwoo for what happened to his brother and their friends. The notion quickly disappeared, though. It wasn’t really any of his business.

“Do you know why your brother called her for help?”

Chan shrugged again, a little uncomfortable. “They were friends.” Then he checked his watch, getting up. “We should get going. Do you need help with your bags?”

“No,” Junhui answered with a head-shake, pouring down the rest of the sweet coffee. “I’ll get it.” He bit down on his lower lip, drawing blood. He understood that talking about it was difficult, but couldn’t anyone reply to his questions with a straight answer?

Chan drove him to the harbor in his dad’s old truck. The two arrived at a little past 7:45, and he stalled the engine in the empty lot. The fishing boats were still out at sea, and the marina looked deserted. Not even the fish markets were open yet. For once, the sky appeared a murky color rather than heavy with black clouds. Maybe it was a good omen.

As Junhui unclipped his seatbelt, the younger reached for something in the console.

“The ferry leaves at 8:30, but it usually docks and lets passengers off around 8:00, so you can ask to come aboard then.” Chan produced a blank ticket. “They’ll stamp it at the gate.”

Junhui thanked him and his parents once more with a genuine smile, but he couldn’t shake off the feeling that they really wanted to get rid of him as soon as possible.

“Hey,” Chan called after Junhui had opened the door. “If you see Wonwoo, stay away from him.”

His heart skipped a beat, suddenly afraid like a child getting caught stealing from the cookie jar. Chan couldn’t have known about the meeting last night, could he? More importantly, why was he telling him that? Junhui stared at him with wide eyes, hoping it’ll pass off as surprised and confusion instead of panic.

“He might have been my brother’s best friend,” he started to explain, “but he’s not exactly... stable.”

“As in _mentally_?” Junhui asked, thinking back to last night.

Chan nodded. “Right. He’s not dangerous or anything, but he can get...” Sighing, he shook his head trying to find the right words. “I don’t know if you know this, but we can’t leave the island.”

Junhui nodded, “I heard.”

“Well, Wonwoo had wanted to get out of Serenity Port for as long as I’ve known him,” he laughed softly, but it held a tinge of sadness in it. “It’s become sort of an obsession. The more he talked, the more he convinced Soonyoung and their friends. That’s why they contacted Hayun, because she did it. She managed to leave.”

“But I thought you said they found a way to break away from... whatever was holding the town stuck in this frozen state. If that’s the case, then why is he still here?”

Chan looked away swiftly, as if caught in a lie. When he turned back to face him, he cleared his throat. “Like I said, Soonyoung didn’t tell me much. I just know that Wonwoo wants to get out of here, and he convinced my brother to do the same. Obviously, something horrible happened, and now he’s the only one left of that group.”

Junhui didn’t know what to say, so he hopped down to the pier. “Okay. I’ll be careful. Thanks for the ride and ticket.” He received a small nod and tight smile in return.

After he took his suitcase from the trunk, he rolled it with him to the little gate he had come from yesterday. The boat was still nowhere in sight as he checked the time. Behind him, he heard the truck back out and drive away. After a few seconds, everything turned very quiet, and he could hear the swishing sound of the sea, interspersed with the caws of seagulls.

Now that he was alone with his thoughts, he questioned Chan’s words. Did the boy really not know what his brother and Jeon Wonwoo had planned when they contacted Hayun, or was he just holding back that information? He didn’t even seem surprised that Junhui knew about them being stuck here. (To be honest, he still couldn’t quite believe that Bedtime Story, mostly because he hadn’t seen any proof—and he was glad he hadn’t. The last thing he wanted was to see some sea monster devouring people. He still had to find a way to justify people's age, though.)

Taking in a deep breath of the salty air, Junhui stared out to sea. If nothing else, at least he was able to see where his mother had grown up. Maybe now it’ll be a little easier accepting and understanding why she decided to omit her past in conversation.

“Going home?” a somewhat familiar voice asked, disturbing the early morning silence and dispersing the fog.

Slightly startled, Junhui turned in its direction. Jeon Wonwoo was sitting on the back of the closest stone bench, his feet firmly planted on the seat. How could Junhui have missed him earlier? The color of his jacket was the brightest spot of the entire town, or so it seemed to him. Once again, he had that black wool hat covering his head, but standing only a few feet away, Junhui could see the dark locks peeking underneath the rim.

“Yes,” Junhui answered simply, watching him.

“Cutting your trip short, I see.” While he spoke to him, Wonwoo never so much as glanced in the boy’s direction. Instead, he was focused on something in his hands, fidgeting the small object.

After all the warnings the Kwons had given out, Junhui should’ve been more scared of him. Or at the very least, wary. Especially since not another soul was around. Although, considering he’d already agreed to take a walk to a cliffside with him last night, being alone with him now couldn’t be much worse.

“No, I hadn’t planned on staying for long,” Junhui told him, lying.

_Why did I even respond to his comment with a lie?_ Okay, so maybe Junhui was a little bit nervous around him. His stomach was acting funny again.

In the midst of his inner monologue, he saw one corner of the other’s mouth pull up in a half-smile. “You always pack that much for a one day trip?” Wonwoo gestured toward the small suitcase and duffle bag.

Self-conscious, Junhui tightened his hold on the strap and handle of his bag and case. “Maybe.”

Laughing once, he nodded. “Didn’t peg you for the high-maintenance type, though.”

Junhui huffed, bottom lip dangerous close to forming a pout. He was not high-maintenance. Who did this guy think he was? Two seconds from retorting, he bit his tongue. Why was he getting so worked up over a light comment? Wonwoo probably didn’t even put that much thought into it, especially when he’d been silent for a full minute now.

Junhui wondered if he had decided to stop talking to him altogether, then quickly came the question that popped into his head last night, as well: what was he even doing here?

“So you’re satisfied leaving without finding your mom?” The question startled him from his musings.

When Junhui turned toward him, Wonwoo was staring right into his eyes. The quick reply died on his lips and completely slipped out of his head. The picture didn’t do those eyes justice. Even though he’d seen him the night before, it had been dark. Now in daytime, the intensity of his eyes made him lose all coherent thought momentarily. They were as hard and cold as glass, mesmerizing as much as frightening, and yet there was that spark of life and vigor that he’d never seen before.

“Isn’t that why you came here?” Wonwoo asked when Junhui didn’t answer his previous question, still holding his gaze.

Nodding, Junhui swallowed.

“Then why are you leaving before getting answers?”

That question was easy. “Because the Kwons told me to.”

He chuckled in response, a hollow sound, similar to the forced grin on his face. “You always do what people tell you to?”

Junhui nodded slowly. _Most of the time_ , he added mentally, remembering his dad’s orders to throw the letter away. _At least, I used to_.

“Good!” Wonwoo said now, hopping off of the bench. “Come with me.” With nothing but a small wave, he walked off along the harbor path, expecting the boy to follow him once more.

With him gone, it appeared as if the fog rolled back in, quickly thickening and shrouding him from view. Junhui didn’t have much time to decide. If he waited any longer, the fog will completely obstruct his view, and he’d lose him for good. He bit his lip and tugged on it, tapping the toe of his shoe against the planks. Another look out to sea showed no ferry yet.

Junhui yanked on his suitcase and ran after him. His rapid breathing and the wheels rolling over the cracks in the wooden planks were the only signs of life throughout the seemingly dead town. He tried not to get too distracted by the eerie feeling, keeping his eyes on the target. The other’s silhouette more than thirty feet away was quickly disappearing through the white mist, and Junhui was grateful for the bright color of his hoodie.

Wonwoo kept walking, and with each step he got farther and farther away. Junhui could hardly keep up, slowed down by his luggage. Eventually, the billows of fog thickened to the point where it was impossible to see anything past the opaque layer. Even the red figure had vanished. Junhui stopped, nerves mounting as he realized he was lost in the middle of nowhere.

As he stood there dumbfounded, a hand shot out and grabbed his wrist. He yelped, stumbling at the force with which the arm yanked him off to the side. The wheels of the suitcase whacked against his ankle, and he hissed, furiously rubbing at the area to sooth out the pain. By the time he regained his footing and bearings, the first thing he saw was a red hoodie and a black beanie.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” Junhui answered, distracted as he glanced at their surrounding. “I’m fine.”

They were in an alley, maybe the same one he had seen Wonwoo standing around yesterday with the other guy. The fog seemed less dense here, and the faint outline of a door came into view. Not saying a word, Wonwoo revealed what he had been fidgeting with earlier. He inserted the key and unlocked the door.

“Come on in,” he said, gesturing for Junhui to go ahead.

Eyeing him apprehensively, Junhui paused at the entrance of the dark room. This entire trip couldn’t have been an elaborate plan to kidnap him, could it? Seeing the hesitation, Wonwoo reached past him and switched on the lights.

Still cautious, Junhui stepped in to see that it was an ordinary apartment, and not some creepy storage unit. Right off the doorway sat a couch and small coffee table, both facing a large collection of books. Up against the opposite wall laid a desk with a computer as old as the ones they used when Junhui went to high school. A kitchenette was in the back, along with a dim hallway that most likely led to more rooms. Similarly to the Kwon home, everything looked dated. Unlike Soonyoung's room, though, these walls were far from bare. He had photos and newspaper articles pasted all over like wallpaper.

As Junhui observed the ones closest to him, he noted that the large pictures came from nature and life magazines depicting various cities, forests, deserts, oceans, animals, and plants. The few articles he could read were about all kinds of world events, both catastrophic as well as miraculous.

Wonwoo closed the door, and Junhui waited for him to start explaining himself. Mainly why he’d brought him here. Not to mention how he even knew where Junhui would be this morning. Instead of an explanation, though, Wonwoo gestured toward the couch for his guest to sit, while he took the suitcase and wheeled it in the corner.

On his way back, he went straight to the bookshelf and picked up a random volume, dropping it on the coffee table between them. It slapped the table, and Junhui flinched at the sharp sound ringing through the quiet room.

“Do it,” Wonwoo directed.

All he got from the other boy was a confused stare, followed by, “Do what?”

Wonwoo shrugged. “Whatever you're capable of. Levitate it, turn it invisible, make it fly across the room. Hell, burn it up, if that's what you do.”

Again, Junhui gave him a blank stare and a lot of blinking. Was he completely mental like Chan had warned? “I can't do any of that,” Junhui said flatly.

Leaning against the wall, Wonwoo crossed his arms. “Now isn’t the time to hide your powers. Just show me what you can do.”

Okay, Junhui decided, he was definitely crazy. This would certainly explain why the Kwons didn't think very highly of him and advised their young guest to stay away on numerous occasions. Junhui was starting to think he should have listened.

“Apart from reading it or tearing its pages, I can’t do anything to this book,” Junhui insisted.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, the other muttered, “God, you’re even more stubborn than your mother.” Looking up, he said, “We’re not gonna get anywhere if you don’t cooperate a little.”

His common sense overtook his curiosity, and it made Junhui very aware that he was alone with an apparent demented man. He had to get out of here. If he ran now, he might still make it to the ferry before it left. Then he could pretend that everything he’d learned here was just some urban legend told by the locals to excite and scare tourists.

“I’m sorry, this was mistake. I have to go catch the ferry,” he announced as he got to his feet, rounding the couch to get to his case.

From the corner of his eye, Junhui noticed movement. Out of nowhere, a book flew at him. He ducked and covered his head with a squeak, hearing it hit the binders on the desk behind him. He glanced back at the damage, then shot up, glaring at the maniac.

“Are you seriously insane? What the hell are you doing?” Junhui shouted, trying to compose himself to no avail. His heartbeat still raced from the near injury. More than the fright, though, his body was abuzz. Feeling this furious was new to him; he hardly, if ever, screamed at anyone in anger.

“Getting impatient,” Wonwoo answered in that same antagonizing and condescending tone. “Just fucking do it!” Rounding the coffee table, he stalked toward the other boy, clearly pissed now.

All the fury Junhui had gained from almost getting decapitated by that book suddenly vanished, and he shrank from the scowl.

“Nothing is what I can do, okay?” he cried, backing away toward the door. “Look, I don’t know who or what you think I am, but I’m absolutely _not_ that! I have no powers, no special abilities. I am the most normal, plain, boring person you’ll ever meet.”

His back and elbows hit the door with a thump, and he winced at the pain. Immediately, his hand flew to the knob to escape, but Wonwoo was faster. He grabbed it and kept it locked, while his other hand slammed against the door on the other side of the boy’s face, trapping Junhui between him and the door. Wonwoo wasn’t actually touching him, but the way he glared at him was enough to pin him in place. Junhui swallowed, feeling his heart race even faster than before. _This how I'm going to die, isn't it?_

“Listen carefully,” Wonwoo said with barely restrained frustration, gritting his teeth. “Since Hayun obviously never thought to tell you, I’m going to have to. You come from a very powerful line of witches. After the Pact was created, your grandmother and her children managed to trap the monster. Unfortunately, before they could destroy him, his henchmen caught your mother. With no other choice, they released him. As soon as he was free, Krius killed them all.” He paused to let his words sink in, watching the way the other’s eyes widened. “So unless you want to end up like them, I suggest you start believing.”

“Is that a threat?” Junhui breathed out, unable to muster anything but a whisper.

“No, just a piece of friendly advice.” Wonwoo looked at him hard, waiting for a response.

Finally, Junhui managed to find his coordination and nodded.

He seemed to relax just a fraction, his face returning to a neutral expression. “Good.” Then as if he couldn’t stand to be this close to the other boy, he pushed himself away and stormed to the other side of the room.

Catching his breath, Junhui slumped back against the hard wood and let himself slide to the floor, his knees failing him completely. The blood pounded in his ears as he closed his eyes for a second, focusing on stopping the trembles in his hands. He was grateful Wonwoo left him alone to gather himself.

By the time he opened his eyes, he noted the sheets of paper littering the floor by his feet, no doubt from when they flew out of the binders that got hit by the book. He stared at them blankly for a second, wondering if he should pick them up. The more he studied them, the more the handwriting looked familiar. He narrowed his eyes and approached the desk on shaky legs, gathering a few notes in his path. He started reading the content, but focused on the black strokes on the white paper. Suspicion mounting, he pulled the letter out from his pocket to compare. Although at this point, he already knew the answer before he saw the same strokes.

“You sent me the letter,” he stated, looking over at Wonwoo accusingly.

The latter was leaning on his elbows at the kitchen counter, staring at him. He had to know Junhui would make the connection, yet he let it happen. “That’s right.”

“Why? Why did you sign it as Lee Jihoon? Why did you address it to my mother?”

Wonwoo put his hand out and numbered off his answers. One. “I needed you to come.” Two, he raised two fingers. “I thought your parents would’ve mentioned his name in passing, but considering they never even told you the most important thing about yourself...” He shrugged. Three. “I didn’t know your name and didn’t learn it until you met Mr. Shupe.”

“The bookshop keeper?”

He nodded. “Mr. Shupe mentioned a young man named Junhui came in to ask about Yong Hayun and Kwon Soonyoung, bearing an uncanny resemblance to the former. I figured it was the same boy who got off the ferry that afternoon.”

As he mentioned it, Junhui lowered his eyes and pretended to be wholly concentrating on putting the letter away. He couldn’t believe he was still embarrassed the other had caught him staring.

“Why didn’t you say any of this last night?”

“I had to keep you guessing so you wouldn’t leave.” Wonwoo scoffed, rolling his eyes. “It didn’t occur to me you’d listen to the Kwons and leave anyway.”

“What do you expect from me, exactly?” he asked softly, trying to rearrange the notes into a neat pile on the desk.

“I expected that you’d at least know who you are,” Wonwoo replied curtly, a little reprimand clear in his tone.

Running out of things to do to avoid meeting his gaze, Junhui gingerly glanced up at him. “I’m really sorry, but as much I want to help, I don’t see how I can.”

“We’ll find a way,” he said surely. “In hindsight, it might be for the best that you don’t practice magic.”

Rather confused by his comment seeing how angry he had been with the supposed young witch mere moments earlier, Junhui met his composed expression with puzzlement.

He explained, “Krius can sense the changes on the island. That’s how he’s able to control everyone and keep tabs on their movements. Magic, the more potent it is, the easier it is for him to locate. Your lack of powers might very well keep you alive.”

Junhui gulped, hands getting jittery again. While it should have occurred to him sooner, he realized now that he was on his own here. Wonwoo might have called him, but he wasn’t going to do anything if the boy got into trouble; he had no reason to.

His eyes flickered to the wall. The clock already read 8:39; it was too late to change his mind now (not that Wonwoo really left him much of a choice in the matter), the ferry was long gone.

“If that’s the case,” Junhui thought aloud, brows furrowed. “Then how was my mom able to stay under his radar for five years?”

“Either she was incredibly good at masking herself and her powers,” he agreed, “or Krius let her think that she was.”

“What do you mean?”

“He could’ve known, but not acted until he needed to. Like when he let her leave the first time. That day, your father and his family were caught and brought to Blackrock Beach, but your mother begged for their lives. Krius agreed to let her go with them if she swore never to return to the island.”

That didn’t make sense. “Why would he do that when he easily... got rid of the witches who caught him?”

“Excellent question.” Wonwoo nodded. “Unfortunately, as third parties, that’s all we know.”

In order to process the information given, Junhui had to think logically as if discussing characters in a story, rather than connecting them with his family. Keeping a leveled head proved to be much easier that way.

“You mentioned that you found a few personal belongings and her journal. Where exactly did you find them?”

“In the little house she stayed in by the beach.”

He frowned. “Alone?”

Wonwoo nodded, but the movement prompted him to believe he held something back. Junhui wanted to ask; he didn’t get the chance, however.

Gesturing for the boy to follow him, Wonwoo led the way down the hall. He hit the light switch as he went, and the pair entered a very small room, full of books and shelves. It took Junhui a second to realize he had converted a walk-in closet into a storage unit. He bent down to open an old trunk, and lifted the top up. Junhui peered over his shoulders to see a notebook and a familiar travel bag.

“Her clothes are still at the cottage,” Wonwoo said as he took the bag and journal out.

Junhui knelt down next to him to examine the items, heart rate picking up at the prospect of clues and answers. First, he opened the notebook, hoping it could shed some light. The hope crashed and burned; every word was gibberish. He flipped through the pages. They all looked alike.

“It’s protected,” Wonwoo explained. “I thought you could somehow decipher it.”

“Maybe if I had a century, I might,” he muttered with a pout, putting it aside. For once, he heard a genuine chuckle from the other boy. It sounded nice.

“Not if she did it with some blood magic.”

That didn’t sound creepy at all. “Blood magic?” he repeated.

“Only people with her blood can undo the spell. So, you.”

Junhui gave him a skeptical look. “Well, either I’m adopted or something’s wrong with me.”

He expected a cynical retort, but instead he got a placating reply. “You’ve never been exposed to magic, apparently, so it might just take a while.”

“Mm.”

Next, Junhui unzipped the bag and examined its content, which wasn’t much. There was a small silver key, a very beautiful and ornate piece of jewelry, a compact, and a ziptop bag with what looked like tree barks, dirt, and some dried herbs. He looked up expectantly, waiting for some enlightenment, but Wonwoo shook his head.

“I have no idea what any of this means. I tried looking for what this key locks at the beach house, but no luck.”

“Can we go there?” he asked. “Maybe it’ll help if I look around, too.”

The other grimaced. “I don’t think that’s a very good idea.”

“Why?”

“It’s—” Knocking on the front door cut short the sentence. Wonwoo glanced at him briefly and stood up. “Stay here,” he said, when the boy moved to do the same.

Junhui sat still as he heard him open the door and greet the person. Male.

They talked for a minute, the voices too muffled to make out. Then the person said something, to which Wonwoo replied, “Sorry, I have plans.”

“Plans. Do they involve a jail cell?” the visitor retorted, raising his voice. “How many times are you going to get arrested before you give up?”

“I guess we’ll find out.”

As they continued to talk indistinctly, Junhui tried to think about that comment and how it connected to what he’d learned so far. Hayun was called back by her old friends because they had figured out a way to break this monster’s Pact. She and Soonyoung kept the plan secret for fear Krius would find out. Somehow he still did, and everyone involved was killed or vanished. Everyone but Wonwoo. Apparently, he’d been in and out of jail a lot, perhaps because he had managed to escape before they could permanently dispose of him. Or maybe because Krius hadn’t wanted to yet. But why? What was he waiting for?

“Listen, I need to get going,” he heard Wonwoo say impatiently now. “Is there anything else?”

“Just watch your back,” the man warned ominously.

Without further comment, Wonwoo closed the door and came back. At that moment, Junhui realized something.

“Was that Kwon Chan?” he asked, when Wonwoo appeared at the threshold.

“Yeah,” he exhaled tiredly. “Still want to explore that cottage?”

That seemed sudden. “I thought you said it was a bad idea.”

“It’s a better alternative than staying here.”

While Junhui didn’t voice his curiosity, he still wondered about their conversation in view of Chan’s less than favorable opinion of Wonwoo. It had sounded like he’d declined an invitation to something. If Chan thought Wonwoo was more or less crazy, why would he want to spend time with him? Did he simply lie to scare Junhui into going home? What would make him think that Junhui would run into Wonwoo in the first place?

Shaking his head, Junhui tried to focus on where he was about to go, instead of driving himself crazy with unanswerable questions. He packed the journal and the other things into the backpack Wonwoo handed him. Then the two set off, crossing through the foggy town in the direction of the shore.

Even though the streets had been poorly lit last night, Junhui was pretty certain Wonwoo took a different path now, careful to stick to alleys and small streets. They didn’t go up to the cliffs, and he didn’t walk through the trail to the sand, either. Instead, his guide turned toward a huge rock formation. The multiple layers-like stairs were witnesses to the different water levels over time, and Junhui wished he were in a position where he could appreciate their sight, taking some pictures to commemorate the trip.

As they climbed further down, it became more treacherous. He could feel the slippery algae under his shoes when they reached the last levels, where the high tide could lick the rocks. It felt like walking on marble tiles covered in dish soap. He had no idea how Wonwoo could get across the large surface without even losing his balance. Here Junhui was wobbling like a baby learning to walk, while he marched on unbothered.

A huge cave came into view, and Wonwoo waited for him to catch up before heading through it. He pulled out a flashlight from his backpack, and the two walked in silence for a few minutes. Junhui marveled at the echoes of their footsteps and of the ocean surrounding them, as if they walking in a bubble at the bottom of the sea.

Eventually, they arrived at the end. Unlike the other side of the tunnel, the beach they stepped out onto was covered in boulders, most of them almost reaching their height. Wonwoo seemed to purposely stay hidden behind them, so Junhui didn’t want to cause more noise by asking questions. After a minute or two, he saw a very small home hidden among the rocks.

It seemed to have sprung up from underground. The walls were built from the sand, and the roof was constructed by waves, or so the colors suggested. While Junhui gaped at the infrastructure in wonder, Wonwoo scanned the windows for something. Eventually, he cracked the teal shutters from the glass pane and picked up the house key. Junhui watched expectantly as he unlocked the door.

He explained as he did so, “She told Soonyoung, just in case.”

Nodding, Junhui followed and closed the door.

Inside the threshold, he took in the decor, observing that it was the warmest and coziest interior he’d seen outside of magazines and IKEA showrooms. Dark applewood furnitures filled the room—a small writing desk faced the window, a fully-stoked bookcase stood against the wall next to the fireplace. There were also a small, floral-print couch and low coffee table in the center of the room. Through one side of the doorway was the kitchen, and the other led to a single bedroom.

As he looked around, one detail did unsettle him despite the charming decor: the lack of personal effects. No pictures, no clutter, no wear and tear, no sign that someone even lived here, much less his mother. At home, she was known for her chaotic messes, and she always used to have flowers on her desk, may they be fresh or dried bouquets. This desk was impeccably clean and organized, but no flowers. Maybe Wonwoo could tell he was a little distraught, because he stayed silent, leaning against the wall to stare out the window. Junhui searched the room thoroughly for any clues that might tell them where she had gone or how to decode her journal. Finding none, he moved on.

In the bedroom, he noticed a little flower vase on the dresser. The familiar sight was nostalgic, and he smiled slightly, remembering happier times. He turned to start rummaging through the dresser; however, his brows furrowed and he turned back to the flowers. They were fresh. Really fresh. Which should be impossible if Hayun disappeared over a month ago. No flower could survive that long.

Curiosity piqued, Junhui went to pick the vase up. A little _clink_  surprised him. He shook the vase again, and it rattled. Quickly, he pulled the dried flower stems out and emptied the content into his palm. A pebble wrapped in a paper fell out. He smoothed out the note, squinting at the tiny writing: _Floor_.

Well, what did that mean? He glanced at his feet, tapping the floorboards with the heel of his shoe. Did she hide something underneath? Listening carefully, he took measured steps around the room from one wall to the next, waiting for a hollow sound. When he reached the middle of the room, Wonwoo appeared at the door.

“What are you doing?” he asked with a raised eyebrow.

Stopping where he was to not lose his place, the boy explained, “I found a note in that flower vase, which makes me think there’s something hidden underneath. I’m trying to find the spot before wasting energy pulling all the boards up.”

“Impressive,” he commented, although his monotone and facial expression said otherwise. He watched him resume the search for a couple minutes, then suddenly called out, “Stop. Back up a step.”

Doing as he asked, Junhui shifted his weight backward. The surface felt slightly thinner. He hopped up and down a couple times, testing it out, and the boards squeaked. He and Wonwoo shared a look, then wordlessly the latter disappeared out to the front. He came back a few seconds later with a fire poker.

On his knees, Junhui scooted back a few feet so he could have room to insert the point between the planks and dislodge them. Then the two pulled the boards up and out of the way to reveal a green metal box similar to the one buried in his backyard.

Suddenly, loud voices cut through the quiet victory. Junhui startled, head whipping toward the source of the disturbance.

Wonwoo cursed under his breath and jumped to his feet. “Stay put.”

Junhui barely managed an “Okay,” before he disappeared through the doorway.

After Wonwoo's footsteps died out, he heard what sounded like something getting dragged across the floor. The desk maybe? Clearly, Wonwoo didn’t think a lock would stop whoever those people were, and a jolt of fright shot down Junhui’s spine.

Wonwoo ran back into the room and closed the door behind him, twisting the lock without delay. Looking around, he snapped his attention to the dresser. Junhui understood without being told, running over to help him push it until it blocked the door.

“Here.” Wonwoo threw him the backpack, then raced to the window and undid the clasps.

Junhui retrieved the box and stuffed it into the bag, swinging the straps over his shoulders. As quickly as he could, he replaced the boards over the hole.

The front door rattled forcefully.

He froze.

The door hit the desk with so much force, he feared it might have toppled over. Only the muffled shouts from multiple men slipping through the cracks indicated the desk held on, still barring their way.

He looked over at Wonwoo, body strumming with adrenaline and the need to run away. The latter was still struggling to get the window to swing open. Running over, he tried to push them out with him, making sure there wasn’t an additional lock somewhere he’d missed in the rush. Nothing budged. It was like the glass pane had been fused to the sill, or as if they were never intended to be open.

An ear-shattering crash from outside made him jump out of him skin. Junhui realized, as the crashes continued rhythmically, that the men were trying to break in with axes. Wonwoo picked up the fire poker.

“Watch out,” he warned, tugging Junhui away from the window. Then he timed his blow to theirs, shattering the glass with one hit.

Junhui flinched from the force, but quickly opened his eyes to see Wonwoo clearing the shards as best he could without cutting his fingers. He hopped out and scoped the surrounding for their attackers. Satisfied, he motioned for Junhui to climb out.

Thanks to the boulders, they were well hidden from immediate view. Out here, the voices were much louder. And angrier. The pair rounded the back of the house and hid behind the rocks that were placed in a lopsided circle. Crouched down, they could glimpse at the troops hacking down the door. They wore black uniforms with heavy boots. From the distance, he couldn’t tell if they carried firearms, but with the brawn alone, they could surely take down any enemy.

The boys had gotten out of the house right on time, as it merely took the brutes another second before they broke down the heavy desk and stormed in. As they rushed inside, the pair took their chance and escaped; however, something one of the men shouted gave them pause.

“Search thoroughly! And remember, kill Jeon if you must, but Krius wants the boy unharmed!”

He looked over at Wonwoo with shock. “How did they know we’d be here?”

“Krius has eyes all over the island,” Wonwoo answered simply. “What I want to know is why he wants you alive.”

Junhui gulped, too scared to even imagine why.

Inside the little beach house, the leader was shouting more orders above all the ruckus that the men caused by turning everything over, searching for them. Two guards stood outside to keep a lookout.

Lowering themselves close to the ground, the pair sprinted away.

Junhui expected them to return the same way they came, but the troops had other ideas. A few yards from the tunnel, they spotted more guards standing watch, waiting for their catch.

“Fuck,” Wonwoo swore under his breath, rubbing the back of his neck as he scanned the surrounding for a way out. Then his eyes locked on the cliffs, and a look of concentration crossed his features. He was calculating something, maybe the odds that they’d make it out in one piece.

“Are these the same cliffs we climbed last night?” Junhui asked.

He scowled. “One and the same.”

There was a hint of reluctance in his steps and voice when he waved the boy forward, as if hiding something or unwilling to let him see whatever was at the top. Junhui had the feeling that if they weren't out of options, he wouldn’t have taken him up there. But why? He'd just admitted to visiting it last night.

Although, it had been dark, Junhui reminded himself. While nighttime could be scary, it also did a very good job at concealing secrets. In the light of day, it wasn’t as easy.

They scaled the cliffs, thankfully hidden by rocks and trees. Fear and adrenaline kept him moving despite the steep climb. By the time they reached the top, though, his lungs were inflamed and his legs wobbled. He’d always prided his stamina, what with his background in dance, but even he had his limits. Breathing hard, he glanced around and collapsed onto the nearest flat rock.

“You okay?”

Wonwoo, not nearly as exhausted, appeared unfazed save for the heavy breathing and light layer of sheen on his forehead. It made Junhui wonder if he ran away from these guards often enough that ascending a cliff only qualified as a normal workout.

“Peachy,” Junhui answered with a thumbs-up.

Wonwoo snorted a laugh, and the sight of a half-smile was almost enough to make the exhaustion worth it.

As his breathing gradually steadied, he watched Wonwoo army crawl to remain unseen as he kept an eye out for the troops. A couple minutes passed silently, and Junhui was glad of the reprieve and chilly weather.

An abrupt movement on his right caught his eye, and Junhui spun around on instinct. Seeing the gray and green lizard dart under the bush, he cringed. Scurrying creatures often gave him chills. Already forgetting about it, he turned his head, but something pink and thin hanging on the thorns made me stop.

It looked like a piece of cloth faded from the weather exposure. Inching forward, he unhooked it from the pointy branches. The edges were torn, as if the cloth had been caught on the bushes and the fabric was shredded.

Completely blanking out, he couldn’t make himself remember if his mother owned any shirt of this color. His heart pumped faster as he got up and treaded down the trail behind those bushes. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he noticed Wonwoo a couple hundred feet away, doing something on the ground. Junhui couldn’t care less about him, then. All he could think about were two scenarios:

Either he’d find some trace of his mother’s whereabouts,

Or he’d see her body.

He wasn’t sure which was worse.

At the end of the path, he rounded the trees, and his eyes fell on another piece of clothing—a wool sweater, maybe? He swallowed and descended the shallow slope toward the large crater completely overgrown by grass and wild shrubs.

The sight that came into view brought him to his knees.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You're a wizard, Harry. I mean, Jun. I mean, what? (≧∀≦) Well, hopefully the plot twist (can that be considered one?) surprised _some_ of you. 
> 
> Wonwoo isn't the warmest person this time around lol... It comes down to him hating everyone and everything (for good reason!), but no worries! Jun will thaw his heart eventually. 
> 
> Anyway... WonHui finding clues and going to different locations is the basic format for the majority of the fic, so I hope you like solving puzzles! :D
> 
> As for Chan... Well, you'll see next chapter.
> 
> And sorry for the cliffhanger... Eeep!
> 
> As always, thank you for reading and hope to see you soon!  
> xoxoxo


	5. Tempted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chan receives a note.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, before anyone gets too excited, this takes place during Ch. 4, and it's a Chan POV. Ch. 6 will be posted in... a couple days (bc i feel bad), and it'll pick up where the cliffhanger left off. I'm sorry... 
> 
> Anyway, this should give an insight into Chan's character arc... 0.0
> 
> -

 

The ride back home was very quiet. Chan navigated through the familiar foggy streets with ease despite his distracted thoughts. Truth be told, he had wanted to sit with Wen Junhui until the ferry arrived, just to make sure the boy got on safely, keeping an eye out for the patrolling guards just in case. After all, his family owed Hayun at least that much, but at the last minute, Chan couldn’t do it.

As unreasonable as it sounded, he couldn’t help being angry with Junhui for coming to Serenity Port. He brought with him not only a danger to whomever aided and housed him, but for Chan, the older unearthed ugly memories and painful scars. Ones he had hoped that time would soothe.

He didn’t like to think about Soonyoung and his mission to save the island. His brother should’ve left it alone. For two centuries, they all survived and got along just fine. Instead of being content for the protection that Hayun had given their family, Soonyoung let himself be pulled into Wonwoo’s crazy ideas. His choices didn’t just end his life, it brought tragedy to Jihoon, and Hayun and her family, as well. Had Soonyoung and his friends not called Hayun back, the Wens would be living happily now. Instead, one member was missing and presumed dead, while her naive and clueless son dove head-first into something he could never understand.

Everyone would have been better off if his brother and their friends never had started that suicide mission.

When Chan got home, his parents were just beginning to open shop. He excused himself and went upstairs. He sat on his bed, scooting back to lean on the headboard, and stared at the wall.

Now that Junhui was leaving the island, everything would go back to the way it was.

_Except that Soonyoung was still dead._

His eyes flickered to the family picture by the nightstand. They’d looked so happy back then; even with the curse, they found joy in the little things. Moreover, even though they were stuck here with a monster, at least they had each other.

Unable to look at Soonyoung’s pleasant smile any longer, Chan crawled over and flipped the frame down.

At that moment, the window blew open, startling him upright. He scrambled out of bed, wincing at the force of the gust of wind, causing his eyes to water. Rubbing his face with one hand, he reached the frame to slam it shut. Something flew in at that moment. A small piece of paper. Kneeling down, he picked it up expecting it to be trash. But the handwritten note made him pause to read it.

_Would you like to see him again?_

Anger welled up in him, and Chan balled up the mocking words. He threw the note into the waste basket and stormed to the window, locking it with more force than necessary.

Leave it to Krius to beat people when they were down. It wouldn’t be the first time that he jabbed his dirty finger into someone’s wound for his own enjoyment.

Chan stayed in his room until it was time for his morning shift at the bistro. On his way out, another note caught his attention, tucked between the front door and its frame. He plucked it out with a scowl.

_I can help you, little Channie._

Like the previous note, he crumbled it up and threw it away. Why was Krius targeting him all of a sudden? His family had been gratefully left alone for all these years, and now that Soonyoung was gone, they had done nothing that would attract Krius’ attention. What changed?

Startled, he halted in his step, the realization dawning on him: Wen Junhui. Krius knew the boy had come here. An icy shiver jolted down his spine.

Chan checked the time. The ferry had left five minutes ago. Junhui must have gotten on it, right? But if he did, why would Krius even try to contact Chan now?

If Krius himself didn’t catch Junhui, there was only one other person who could’ve talked the older boy into staying and managed to hide him from prying eyes.

Getting inside the car, Chan headed toward Wonwoo’s apartment. He had to make sure Junhui had gone home. He didn’t want him hurt, and as angry as he was with Wonwoo, he didn’t want the older to die foolishly trying to escape Serenity Port, either. As Chan thought this, he couldn’t help the nagging suspicion that Krius was planning something else. Why else would he taunt him with Soonyoung’s memory and promise him his help?

Hopefully Wonwoo could clear it all up. As long as Junhui had left the island like he was supposed to, everything should be fine.

Wonwoo opened the door, but upon seeing Chan, he stepped onto the street and closed it behind him. The younger tried to look over his shoulder through the small gap, but he couldn’t see anything.

“Hi,” Chan said.

“Hi,” Wonwoo repeated in monotone, not at all happy about the visit. Although honestly, Chan couldn’t remember the last time the older had looked remotely content, much less happy. He shook his head and returned to the important point.

“Have you been out by the harbor this morning?” Chan wondered, hoping to ask about the topic without coming right out and saying it. One never knew if Krius’ spies were nearby.

Not missing a beat, he replied in a clipped voice. “Nope.”

“So did you happen to see a new boy walking around town? About your height, blue jacket, dark jeans, travel bags?”

“I don’t usually pay attention to tourists.”

“He’s not...” Chan sighed, getting frustrated with him. “I really need to talk to you. Do you wanna get some breakfast at the bistro? My treat.”

Wonwoo’s eyes narrowed as he studied him. Understandably, considering the two hardly spoke ever since Soonyoung died, and even when his brother was alive, Chan and Wonwoo were never the best of friends.

“Sorry, I have plans.”

“Plans,” Chan repeated not fully believing him. “Do they involve a jail cell?” he scoffed. “How many times are you going to get arrested before you give up?”

Shrugging in that maddening way of his, he quipped. “I guess we’ll find out.”

“Last time your crazy mission didn’t just put you behind bars, it killed your closest friends and Hayun is still missing!”

Wonwoo grinned bitterly. “I haven’t forgotten.”

Noises inside led the younger to ask, “Is someone in there?” He tried to take a step further, but Wonwoo didn’t budge.

“Mingyu’s in there,” he replied casually.

This was getting nowhere, and Chan was running late for work. He better rethink of another way to know about Junhui and what Krius was planning.

Apparently, he wasn’t the only one getting impatient, because in the next second, Wonwoo was shooing him away. “Listen, I need to get going, is there anything else?”

“Just watch your back,” he advised, then left.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chan's main character flaw is... overthinking and over-worrying, that's how you get into trouble, kiddo... ●︿● 
> 
> Thank you for reading! Until next time! :D  
> xoxoxo


	6. Not Saviors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WonHui return to town and try to solve the next clue. Jun throws a tantrum, and Wonwoo reaffirms his hatred for everyone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hellooooooo! Happy Friday! So as promised, here's where the cliffhanger picks up. Hopefully no one is disappointed... (◞ ‸ ◟)
> 
> At any rate, if you like puzzles, you might want to try solving it along WonHui lol. Do let me know if it doesn't make sense. It's rather difficult to explain and not confuse people =/
> 
> -

 

 

Hundreds, maybe thousands of them, lied haphazardly in that hole.

No, they didn’t _lie_ there. That would suggest some sense of peace and restfulness. They had been _thrown_ in here without any trace of compassion or even respect. Just body parts sticking up in unnatural angles. Arms and legs. Hands and feet. Most of them no longer attached to a body.

If only Junhui hadn’t shifted to the side, then they would still remain faceless strangers. But he did turn and meet her eyes.

Dead, stony, and opaque to the point where the color of the irises could no longer be distinguished from the cloudy texture of the scleras. Glazed over, they were set deep in the sockets of the face, now only a thinly-covered skull. The skin, dry and stretched so tightly, Junhui could see every bump and dip in the bones, emphasizing the jaw and making the teeth seem too large for the head. This poor woman, whoever she was, at least still had her limbs intact.

Which was more than he could say of her neighbor. The other female corpse had her ring finger ripped off, suggesting at the savage theft of her jewelry, completely disregarding the state of the body. Both women, as well as the rest of the corpses, appeared to have had their life and soul sucked out of them. All that remained were empty, dried, brittle shells.

As much as Junhui wanted to, he couldn’t tear his eyes away, searching for one particular face. Even as he searched meticulously, heart hammering like drums, he prayed that he wouldn’t find hers. Throughout the scan, he noticed the victims’ clothing—how wide the range of styles expanded over time. How long had this really been going on?

“She’s not here,” Wonwoo said behind him.

Startled out of the stupefaction, Junhui turned around slowly and blinked, wishing he could unsee the scene behind him. He blinked the hazing image away, and moisture landed on his cheeks, surprising him. He wasn’t sure if they were tears of relief that his mom wasn’t among the victims, or of sadness for the unfortunate people whom met their ends this way.

Maybe both.

Junhui wiped his face roughly with a sleeve as Wonwoo approached, elaborating, “When Hayun went missing, I came here to check.”

Nodding, the boy cleared his throat. “Are those people...? Were they...?” As hard as he tried, he couldn’t bring himself to vocalize the words.

Even without Wonwoo confirming it with a firm nod, Junhui already knew they had been more or less eaten by that monster. He took in another breath to steady himself.

Wonwoo gestured for the pair to leave the area, falling back into his blunt statements. “The North side looks clear for now, so we should be able to make it down before they figure out where we are. But if they’re not on our tail now, they could have already gone to the apartment.”

“Where are we going, then?”

Ignoring the question, Wonwoo began to climb down the cliffs. Well, Junhui guessed he’d just have to wait and see. Not like he had much of a choice anyway. In the back of his mind, though, he wondered why Wonwoo had to be so stingy with his words. Fortunately, the two made it down safely and unharmed, and found their way back into town.

Wonwoo took him right across the street as soon as their feet stepped on concrete, toward a row of small shops. He headed for one in particular. From the exterior tables and chairs, it appeared to be a quaint little café, but when they went inside, it turned out to be closer to a pub. And it was full of patrons, which was good because they navigated through the crowd unnoticed, plus the dim lighting and music helped greatly. They crossed the whole establishment without fuss.

Opening the back door, Wonwoo checked the alleyway. Over his shoulders, Junhui could spot a dumpster, trash bags, and a couple of stray cats, but nothing out of the ordinary.

Just as he took a step after him, Wonwoo halted and backed up into the pub, causing the boy to almost bump into him. Moving past him, Wonwoo rounded the corner and proceeded down a short hallway that had a flight of stairs. He started up the steps wordlessly, and Junhui hurried behind him, still wondering where in the world he was taking them.

They got to another hallway, this one with several doors that reminded him of the Kwons’ home. Wonwoo stopped in front of one, then checked the knob. Locked, naturally, Junhui thought. Who would leave their door open when apparently anyone could come up here? Wonwoo searched his pockets, but came up empty. He cursed under his breath, fist hitting the wall.

Finally acknowledging the presence of his companion since the cliffs, Wonwoo glanced at him and requested, “Hand me your wallet.”

Junhui arched a brow, regarding him quizzically. “Why?” Despite the reluctance and confusion, he still reached for his back pocket. He didn’t need Wonwoo yelling at him again. “What are you gonna do?” he wanted to know. Although, seeing him take out one of the cards and returning his focus on the door, Junhui could harbor a guess. And he did not like that idea at all.

“I forgot the key,” Wonwoo claimed.

Watching him warily, Junhui took back his wallet. The apparent criminal stuck the card through the small gap, wiggling the piece of plastic and the knob a few times. Then a soft click echoed down the quiet corridor. Standing up, he pushed the door open and returned the item to its owner.

Not hesitating, Wonwoo barged into the apartment. Junhui walked in cautiously, looking around for some kind of alarm or watch dog. Apparently, they were either mute and invisible, or nonexistent. Still, Junhui had his shoulders hunched up, eyes darting around, boy coiled at the ready to bolt. In the meantime, Wonwoo marched straight to the kitchen in the corner and opened the cabinets to pull out a bag of coffee ground. Then he set off to brew a pot of coffee like he owned the place. At that point, Junhui asked himself if maybe he did. He sure acted like he did.

From what Junhui could attest, this apartment looked more modern than the rest of the housing units he’d seen so far. Which was to say that it resembled the sort of apartments he was used to seeing in "the real world". There was a sound and TV system, and light colored furniture place stylishly. The most striking difference between this one and the one Wonwoo had first showed him, was the lack of newspaper clippings and magazine pictures on the walls. Instead, art pieces and paintings decorated the room, along with some professional-looking photographs.

“Whose apartment is this?” Junhui asked, noticing a framed picture of a young, blond man on the desk, along with a kermit doll.

“Do you always ask this many questions daily?” Wonwoo retorted, pouring two cups.

Stiffening, Junhui straightened his back and frowned. “Well, I don’t usually hang out with people who only speak to me when they feel like it. So excuse me for trying to figure out what’s going on around me.”

Wonwoo cracked a crooked grin, shaking his head. Apparently he found the boy’s miffed expression amusing. He pushed one of the white cups toward him. “Sit down, Junhui. Sounds like you need the coffee more than I do.”

With a huff, Junhui took a seat on one of the three stools facing the counter. The backpack still on, he shrugged it off now and set it in front of them. He wrapped his hands around the cup and warmed them. “Thanks,” he muttered, glancing up briefly; he wanted to remain mad at him, but it proved to be more difficult than he thought. “It’d be nice if you could offer some answers, too.”

Wonwoo laughed once, but didn’t comment further, preferring to sip at his drink. Junhui sighed, getting the feeling that he’d only answer questions he valued as important and talk to him when absolutely necessary.

_So stingy._

After he’d taken a few sips of the coffee, Wonwoo unzipped his backpack to retrieve the metal box. Surprisingly, he handed it over, saying, “Here, do the honors.”

Hesitantly, Junhui kept eye contact and took it. “Are you telling me to do it because you think something’s gonna pop out?”

“I wouldn’t put it past your mother,” he smirked, but then got serious again. “She hid it for a reason, and you found the clue. I’m thinking she would’ve wanted you to see the content.”

“Oh.”

Aside from the weight of the steel box, Junhui couldn’t sense anything else inside. He shook it gently, but only heard the rustling of his sleeves rubbing against the edge of the counter.

“It’d just be my luck to open an empty box,” he muttered, flipping the latch open with precaution, leaning as far away as he could without falling off the stool. From the corner of his eye, he noted Wonwoo holding himself back from laughing outright at him. Nothing exploded; he peeked. Inside laid a folded piece of paper. More clues?

With Wonwoo’s eyes following his movement, Junhui unfolded it and spread it out in front of them. It was a map, or part of a very large map at any rate. The right edge looked fuzzy the way paper did after someone rips it. Its condition seemed relatively new, well within five years. On it, different spots were circled in red. The title was missing, so he could only assume it depicted the region.

Wonwoo leaned on his folded arms to take a closer inspection. After not speaking for a few seconds, he pointed to a street. “This is where we are.”

Getting closer, Junhui read Flower St. He searched around, then found Blackrock Beach. Next to the words, a red circle was drawn.

“That’s approximately where the Blue Beach House is,” Wonwoo confirmed, reading the boy’s thoughts.

“What about the other circles?”

“I’m not sure,” he shook his head.

Perplexed, Wonwoo picked the map up and rotated it so that it was right side up for him to read. As he did so, some writing on the back made Junhui exclaim, “Wait! Flip it over.”

He did without question, and they found themselves staring at a list of ten combinations of letters and numbers.

“Could you get me some paper and a pen?” He gestured toward the desk.

As Junhui nodded and got up, he heard him flip the map back and forth a couple times. He handed him the items and waited until Wonwoo copied out the list, then flipped the map back a final time.

“Each set of letter and number corresponds to one of these circled locations,” he explained, pointing to the Blue Beach House. Going along the top and side of the map, the location matched with D4, one of the combinations on the list.

“The last half of the list must be on the missing half,” Junhui concluded after counting.

Wonwoo agreed. “If she hid a clue at the Beach House on where to find this map, then she must have left something else for us to find the other half.” Pausing, he thought for a second, brows furrowed. “But if she already wrote down all the combos on here, why would she need to hide the other half? Technically, if I found the same map in its entirety at a store, I could determine all the locations from this list. What’s the point of hiding the other half?”

The reasoning made perfect sense, and Junhui pursed his lip, tugging at it as he concentrated. “Unless there’s something else on the missing half,” he commented. “That’d be the only reason she’d hide it.”

“Let’s just try to see what these other locations are first,” Wonwoo suggested, leaving the counter and going to one of the bookcases. He pulled out the top drawer, and Junhui heard paper rustling inside. “Can you see the code at the bottom on the very left border?”

Junhui looked and called out the reference numbers and letters. Wonwoo went back to riffling through the content. A couple minutes later, he muttered something unintelligible under his breath.

At that moment, the doorknob rattled, and the sound of the key turning froze Junhui in place.  _I knew it. Wonwoo totally broke into someone else's apartment._  A gasp lodged itself in his throat. The only reason he hadn’t scrambled for the nearest hiding place was due to his blood having turned to ice. He could only watch in horror and fear, eyes blown wide, as the lock turned.

Whoever stood on the other side of that door was going to put him in jail. They were going to report him to the authorities for breaking and entering. Or worse, he'll be turned in to those guards and charged with conspiracy to overthrow their leader or something. It didn't matter. Junhui was _toast_.

The door swung open, letting in a young, brown-haired man with a navy blue coat, carrying a paper grocery bag. He stopped in his tracks, staring at Wonwoo as the latter heaved a sigh and stood up to his full height.

_Oh, dear_ , Junhui thought. This was what Jeonghan meant when he said Junhui shouldn't follow people blindly. They're going to get shot for trespassing. Either that, or Wonwoo was going to knock the poor unsuspected owner out cold so they could escape, which would only make matters worse. Wonwoo had thrown a book at him; he had no doubt the guy could inflict a worse fate to someone he perceived as his enemy.

The young man kicked the door close and set his groceries on the row of cabinets to his side with a shockingly calm disposition, speaking as he did so.

“You do realize that when I told you to make yourself at home, I didn’t literally mean that could treat this place as yours whenever you please.” He reached into the paper bag and threw Wonwoo something like a candy bar. Wonwoo stuffed it into his pocket without even looking at it.

Junhui watched the exchange, mouth agape.

And then everything hit him like a brick to the face. This guy, the actual owner of the apartment, was the same person Junhui had seen with Wonwoo yesterday in the alley.Even the coat was the same.

Now that he wasn’t terrified of being caught and thrown in jail, proper brain functions started up again, and Junhui somewhat recalled the taller boy’s face.

“So, are you kicking us out?” Wonwoo responded to his friend’s comment, completely unfazed.

It was at this point that the other noticed the third person in the room. “Oh,” he exclaimed, glancing from Junhui to Wonwoo. “Well, he can stay as long as he wants.” He winked, pointed canines flashing as he grinned.

Instead of feeling flattered or flustered by the obvious joke, Junhui felt a sudden sense of dread. Where was he supposed to stay tonight? He’d been so wrapped up in finding answers that he forgot one of the most important and imminent questions: where will he sleep now that he’d decided to continue investigating?

“Sorry,” he heard Wonwoo say, and Junhui blinked, getting back to the present. Wonwoo closed the drawer and returned to his position opposite of the counter, announcing as he moved, “We’re a package deal. Wherever he goes, I go.”

Shifting his gaze to his companion’s face, Junhui tried to read Wonwoo’s expression, but the latter didn’t meet his eyes. Junhui certainly didn’t expect him to be that considerate.

“Alright,” his friend said, putting his hands up, surrendering. “Point taken. So what charges are you hiding from this time?”

Wonwoo shrugged, refolding the half of the map and stashing it in the box. “Harboring a fugitive.”

Being referred to as a criminal was a new feeling, and it obviously wasn’t pleasant.Moreover, listening to them discussing something this heavy with such an air of nonchalance was incredibly bizarre.

The still unnamed friend raised an eyebrow in Junhui’s direction. “You’re the fugitive,” he noted, clearly incredulous.

Junhui nodded slowly.

“Well,” he sighed, picking up the groceries again, “As long as you don’t snore and pick up after yourself, you’re welcome to stay.”

After hanging up his coat on the back of a chair, he moved to put his purchases away as Wonwoo grabbed the metal box and stuffed it into the backpack.

“I’m Mingyu, by the way. Kim Mingyu,” the friend said with a smile over his shoulder.

“Junhui,” he replied, slightly feeling better now that he had a name to associate with the person. More so when it turned out to be an ally.

In the midst of arranging canned tomato sauce and pasta boxes on his cabinet shelves to make room for the packets of ramen, Mingyu inquired gingerly, “So I don’t wanna be rude, but what exactly are you doing here? And what crime could you have possibly committed, robbing a candy store?” He chuckled. 

“Uh, I...” Junhui wasn’t sure if Mingyu was kidding or not, but he was probably genuinely curious about this apparent tourist sitting at his kitchen counter. For that, Junhui wanted to tell him, he just didn't know how to put everything into words after taking all the new information into consideration. He scratched at his hair, making a face at himself. In the end, he decided to go with the simplest reason. “I’m looking for my mom.”

“Your mom?”

Wonwoo interjected. “He’s Hayun’s kid.”

Mingyu threw a glance toward the latter, then focused back on him, expression softening into sympathy. “Oh... I see. I’m sorry, I never personally knew her.”

Junhui only nodded in acknowledgement, a small smile of appreciation on his lips.

The three of them remained quiet for a second as Mingyu went on to stack a pack of beer in the fridge.

“Gotta admit,” he picked up the conversation after closing the refrigerator. “I’m a little disappointed. Here I was hoping that Wonwoo had finally put behind the idea of leaving the island and found something more enjoyable to do with his time.” He waved a hand toward Junhui.

On the couch, Wonwoo sighed, and Junhui had the feeling that they’d had this kind of conversation before, where Wonwoo tried to explain and convince his friend about finding a way out, but to no avail. Truth be told, Junhui couldn’t really understand Mingyu’s indifference and lightheartedness to it. The Kwons had been afraid of upsetting Krius and of what he would do to them, afraid of Junhui meeting the same fate as the unlucky tourists at the cliffs. Because the Kwons didn’t want any misfortune to befall them, they settled for the monster’s rules, not daring to hope for any sort of escape. Their reaction and fear he could understand, but how could Mingyu seem so nonchalant about it?

“From what I gathered,” Junhui began, “leaving is not feasible, but that hardly invalidates one’s desire to want to.”

“It’s not that I don’t _want_ to.” Mingyu balled up the paper bag and threw it in the trash. “It’s just that the risks aren’t worth it. I’ve come to accept the facts, and over the years, I’ve been content with what I have: food, water, shelter, and a job that allows me to afford those necessities. Could some excitement make it better? Sure, but not at the price of my life, or the people I care about.” He punctuated the sentence with a nod toward the picture frame and Kermit doll.

He pulled up the sleeves of his sweater and rested his arms on the counter. Throwing a look toward his friend, Mingyu went on, “In no way am I opposing Wonwoo’s choices, and I fully support his decision to leave. If I can, I try to help out, but I’m not holding my breath for anything to change. And if you’re smart, you’ll reconsider, as well. The fact that you’re running from Krius’ men should’ve been a red flag.”

Junhui swallowed.

Mingyu looked him dead in the eyes and spoke very clearly. “Krius is not someone you can take lightly. I hope you fully understand that.”

Junhui bit his lip, unwilling to come across as rude. However, the words still found a way to pour out despite his best effort. “But by staying here you’re accepting killing innocent people.”

“I don’t like it, but it’s just the way things are. We all need to survive. Think of it this way: what if their boat sunk in the middle of the ocean? Or they got in a car crash on the way?”

“That’s not the same thing!” Junhui exclaimed, appalled at the comparison. “You’re all accessory to murder! You don’t like it, but you condone it by letting it continue.”

Mingyu raised his eyebrows, clearly not expecting him to get so worked up about it. “And you think you can stop it?”

Both locals watched Junhui expectantly.

“I don’t know.” The boy shook his head, rephrasing Mingyu’s words, “But I certainly can’t sit here, feeling content with what I have knowing that I’d had to lead several innocent people to their deaths to get it. Why should you or anyone else here feel entitled to what they have? What makes you think that your life is more important than theirs? Assuming Wonwoo told me the truth about how Krius came to curse this island, you people only have yourselves to blame for the consequences—your greed trapped you here. You have no right to thrive at the expense of other people’s lives.”

Mingyu averted his eyes, backing away until he hit the stove. Wonwoo didn’t look at Junhui, either. Instead, his eyes were burning holes into the coffee table. Restlessly, he cracked his knuckles.

Suddenly unable to breathe, Junhui walked out of the apartment. In the cool hall, he took in deep breaths and tried to clear his mind. He hadn’t expected to get that upset, but the images of those corpses flashed through his mind, and he couldn’t hold back the flow of emotions. He thought about that family with the little boy and the elderly couple he’d met on the ferry.

Shutting his eyes tightly, he forced the mental pictures out. He couldn’t let it get to him. Remaining positive was all he could afford right now. When he opened his eyes again, he walked toward the small window at the end of the hall and looked out at the quiet town. He wanted to get some fresh air to clear his mind, but he was scared of those guards and the possibility that they’d find him. So he stayed there, watching the fog roll in and settling for the cold draft that blew in from the cracks in the wood.

 

»»————- ✧ *: ･ﾟ ✧ ————-««

 

The door to the apartment shut with a softer rumble than Wonwoo expected after Junhui left. He honestly didn’t think the boy would get that agitated over Mingyu’s comments. Although Wonwoo had to admit that to hear him wring the younger out felt quite satisfying. The rhetorical questions were just poignant enough to pierce through the veil of blissful ignorance Mingyu had wrapped around himself. While realistically Wonwoo knew the lecture wouldn’t change the guy’s mind, it shut him up, which was more than Wonwoo could do over the years.

He and Mingyu stared at the door for a moment, then the latter cleared his throat, drawing Wonwoo’s attention back to him.

“Well, I can see why you like him. He certainly holds your ideals, well, the ones you used to have.” Mingyu meant the remark to be caustic, but Wonwoo ignored it, hiding his smirk at the younger’s obvious sour mood from being scolded.

“Yeah, it’s nice to know,” Wonwoo muttered, rubbing a hand over his face.

In reply to the questioning look from the younger, he explained, “The kid’s been asking more questions than sharing his thoughts. Aside from horror after I told him of the town’s history, he didn’t display much of a reaction.”

“You probably scared him speechless,” he guessed.

“Either that or the Kwons were much better at persuading him to leave than I was at making him stay. It’s a good thing I found him this morning before he got on the ferry and left.”

“Ha!” Mingyu barked out a humorless laugh, pointing at the door. “He wasn’t much a mighty hero, then, was he? Just so we’re clear, I didn’t appreciate the accusations.”

Rolling his eyes, Wonwoo heaved an annoyed sigh. “Get over it.”

Irritably, he glared at him for a moment before changing the subject. “So how’d you convince him to stay?”

“I promised him answers about Hayun. Somewhat.”

“Do you even have answers to bait her with?” Mingyu asked skeptically.

He gave him a hard look. “I have enough.”

The younger nodded as he thought it over. “Okay. But why do you even need him in the first place? Don’t you already know what happened, how things were planned?”

“I know what was supposed to be done,” Wonwoo answered, “Not _how_ to do it. Hayun left behind her journal, but I can’t read her codes. Junhui might be able to decipher his mother’s secrets. Somewhere in there, the instructions have to be written.” Somewhere in those notes was the solution to leaving the island alive.

“What if he can’t?”

It was an ugly question, and the answer was even uglier. Wonwoo didn’t take pride in it, but it couldn’t be helped. Nothing on earth could make him stay here for longer than he needed to. Especially now that he was so close to his goal.

Staring out the window, Wonwoo said, “If all else fails, I could always trade him for a way off the island. He is, after all, the last descendant in the Myeong bloodline.”

 

»»————- ✧ *: ･ﾟ ✧ ————-««

 

It progressively got colder, and Junhui shoved his hands into his jacket pockets. His knuckles bumped against something. Remembering his phone, he fished it out to see nothing but a black screen. _Of course_. After two days without a charger, it was no surprise. He sighed, putting it away.

He thought about his dad and what the older man was doing, if he believed the note Junhui left behind about visiting a college friend for a few days. His father was a smart man, though, and Junhui worried that he would recall the mysterious letter and put the pieces together. Then, what would he do? Would he try to come find his son?

A door opening at the end of the hall interrupted his thoughts, and Junhui turned to see. Carrying a laundry basket, an old woman with a faded green floral dress shuffled out. Noticing him, she narrowed her eyes, the bushy gray eyebrows creasing over her black pupils in a suspicious manner, assessing the young man’s presence. The latter offered her what he hoped was a reassuring smile, but she gave him the once-over one more time, then went downstairs without a word.

One more set of hinges creaked, and this time, Wonwoo appeared. He looked a little relieved to see Junhui still in the building.

“Are you okay?” Wonwoo asked, and the other realized that it was the first time he cared to ask about his welfare genuinely rather than an off-hand remark. It felt nice, especially when Junhui felt this lousy.

During the fifteen or so minutes he had stood out here, Mingyu’s question kept repeating in his head. How could Junhui even hope to change what was happening here? All he’d wanted was some answers about his mom. Now did Wonwoo expect him to finish her work? He couldn’t possibly do that, even if he knew what it had been. Positivity could only go so far before physical limitations got in the way.

Junhui met his gaze and answered truthfully with a shrug, “I’m not sure.”

He nodded as if he understood. “Come back in. It’s not good to stay out here for too long.” Punctuating his sentence, he glanced around. “Has anyone seen you?”

“Just the old lady from that door,” Junhui said, pointing.

Frowning, Wonwoo waved him in one more time. “Luckily, she has dementia, but let’s not tempt fate.”

Junhui came back inside, but Mingyu was nowhere in sight. “Where did he go?” Now he felt guilty about walking out and shouting at him.

“Bedtime.”

Surprised, he checked the time; it was hardly past noon.

“He works the night shift in the bar downstairs, so he sleeps most of the day.”

“I see. Was he mad?”

Wonwoo shrugged. “He'll get over it. He doesn't hold grudges.”

“Okay.” That was a relief.

Not missing a beat, Wonwoo took a seat on the couch and spread out the half-map and the note paper. Junhui sat on the loveseat nearby and listened to what the other had to say.

“There has to be something important on this half for her to hide it,” Wonwoo began, pointing to the map. “And I’m thinking it has more to do with the coordinates than the circled locations, which could just be a red herring.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Why else would she include all ten combinations, unless they needed to be in one place?” Wonwoo pushed the notepaper toward him. “What do you notice?”

Junhui examined it for a moment. Transcribed exactly the way it was written, there seemed be an order: A7, B12, C11, D4, E1, G8, H5, I9, J7, K8. They were in alphabetical order, but the F was missing. He commented aloud. After Wonwoo agreed, they remained quiet to try to figure it out.

“What if the letters represent numbers, and the numbers are letters?” Junhui suggested.

Wonwoo stared at him like he’d just spoken a foreign language.

“They might spell something out. When I was little, I used to play those kinds of secret codes at day camp. _A_ could mean _1, B_ is _2_ and so on, which could be an order. Then numbers could represent letters. A7 would mean that the first letter of the word is the 7th letter in the alphabet, which would be G. B12 would be L.”

Taking the pen from him, Wonwoo swiftly decoded the rest of the list, spelling out _Glida Heigh_.

“Does it mean something?” Junhui asked.

He furrowed his brows as he thought. “It’s a housing community—or was, at any rate. I don’t know why she’d hide something there.”

“Like the rest of the map?”

“Yeah.”

To see past Junhui’s shoulders to the window, Wonwoo cocked his head. Then he stood up and went to peer out onto the streets. Following him with his eyes, Junhui noticed the clouds had pulled thicker and darker on the horizon. Soon enough, rain drops started to splatter the glass pane. He listened to the rhythm of the rain for a minute before returning to the matter at hand.

“How far is it?” he asked, worrying about going out while they were still hunted.

“Ten, fifteen minutes,” Wonwoo replied, his back still to him. “We’ll have to wait a few hours, though. The guards switch teams around five o’clock, and we’ll be less likely detected while they’re distracted.”

Wonwoo didn’t return to the couch, and without those piercing eyes scrutinizing him and keeping him on the edge of his seat, his earlier thoughts about staying here resurfaced. Only this time, they concerned Wonwoo, too.

“You never told me what you wanted to get out of this,” Junhui started, staring at his back and wide shoulders. “I know you hoped I could read the journal and find out how Mom planned on breaking the Pact, but what is it that you’re trying to do? Continue that mission single-handedly?”

For a long moment, Wonwoo said nothing. The silence stretched to the point that Junhui believed he would ignore these questions like he ignored so many others previously.

Eventually, his shoulders moved along with his deep breath. “Ever since I realized that there existed the possibility of leaving, I’d been trying to seek a way out. I couldn’t stand living in a community that constantly killed people just to survive. Along with Soonyoung and Jihoon, I did everything in my power to unearth information about breaking the Pact Krius made with the town. I used to hold out hope that one day, it could be broken somehow, and everyone would be set free; however, after Soonyoung’s and Jihoon’ deaths, I don’t think these people deserve it.”

At this point, he turned around. Their eyes met, and Junhui blinked away, unwilling to get himself trapped in them. This time it wasn’t because Wonwoo unnerved him; it was because he caught a glimpse of the hopelessness in them, of the raw pain of losing beloved friends, of a broken spirit. And Junhui just couldn’t handle it, so he looked away, speaking to his wool hat instead.

“Why would you think that?”

“If these citizens hadn’t ratted us out that night, Soonyoung might still be alive today. They’re so scared of losing their pathetic possessions that they throw their conscience to the wind. Take Mingyu for example. You heard him with your own ears: he knows it’s wrong, but he’s stopped caring. However, at least people like him—apathetic and indifferent—I can handle, because they’re not actively trying to get me arrested or killed as I attempt to save their sorry lives. But the rest of this town...” He laughed without humor, a hollow sound, his pretty smile bitter.

“They hold on to this delusional sense of loyalty toward Krius, thinking that if they keep it up, he’ll spare them. But he spares no one unless he intends to use them at some point. You know, the population at its peak used to be close to five-thousand.”

Junhui gulped. “So he just... kills at random?” He almost didn’t want to hear the answer.

“So it seems.”

Maybe it was the fact that Wonwoo had lived through all this for so long—how long, exactly? Based on that little Bedtime Story and the clues Junhui had gotten, he’d have to guess it was close to the date this town was founded—around two hundred years. At any rate, Wonwoo sounded so empty, like he’d been desensitized by the atrocity.

“The Kwons don’t seem to act that way, though,” Junhui commented softly, fidgeting with the sleeves of his sweater. “They’re terrified of him, but there was no sense of loyalty. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be sitting here now.”

“Hayun left them each a protection charm,” Wonwoo explained, then fished something out of his pocket. He held the white stone pendant up, and Junhui stared at it, baffled.

It was the exact same one he’d found in the closet at home. After the initial shock subsided, he wanted to know why Wonwoo was in possession of it if Hayun had given it to the Kwons.

Wonwoo read the question on the boy’s face. “This was Soonyoung’s.”

Rearranging the chain neatly around the pendant, Wonwoo put it away again. Listening to him, Junhui understood completely why Wonwoo would come to the conclusion that the townspeople deserved to stay stuck here. He and his friends had been putting themselves in danger in order to obtain enough information to break Krius’ hold on the island, and instead of helping them, these people got them killed. Not only did most of the townspeople condone human sacrifices, they actively tried to keep anyone from changing their way of life. This was much worse than what Junhui accused Mingyu of doing. At least the taller boy had the right mental capacity of knowing it was wrong and to not take part in it. Apparently the rest of them didn’t.

“Why should I risk my life for people who don’t want to be saved?” Wonwoo concluded, leaning against the window sill, his hands in his pockets.

_Why, indeed?_

“But what about your friends? Your family?” Junhui asked.

“My parents died by the time I turned sixteen. Soonyoung and Jihoon are gone, and Hayun’s missing. So I guess Mingyu’s the only one I have left.” His voice was so impersonal and distant, Junhui couldn’t help wondering how much the cold façade helped dull the pain, if it did at all.

“I’m sorry,” he said sincerely, bringing his hands into his lap.

Wonwoo shrugged, although the gesture didn’t seem dismissive.

“So you just want to leave Serenity Port.”

“The same way you just want to find out what happened to you mother,” he said. “What can two people without any magic do against someone as powerful as Krius? We’re not saviors.”

“No,” Junhui agreed, lowering his eyes to the floor. “I guess not.”

He knew Wonwoo was right. It was the same conclusion he’d come to on his own earlier in the hallway. As much as he wanted to, he couldn’t continue his mother’s work and save everyone (especially when they allegedly reported you to the guards for doing it). He just wanted to find her and/or know what happened to her.

As for the tourists, maybe once he got home, he could do something to discourage people from visiting—say anything but the truth. Knowing people’s curiosity, they’d probably throw themselves on boats to come see for themselves, and that would be the ultimate worst. Telling the police would only invite them to laugh at him.

But people did read reviews and believed rumors more than anything, so if he were to spread rumors that Serenity Port was unhygienic, with rude people, and ridiculously high prices, then maybe people would think twice about scheduling their vacations there?

Sighing, he pushed his hands through his hair, unable to assess whether his thoughts even made sense anymore. Were they just comments he told himself to assuage the guilt over his selfish motivation? Groaning, he released his fringe and let out a huff.

Drawing an end to this conversation, Wonwoo gestured toward the couch.

“You should get some rest now. I can’t guarantee you’ll get much of it after we head out to the new location.”

Junhui nodded with a defeated sigh, but didn’t relocate to the couch. Instead, he took off his jacket and curled up in the loveseat, draping the jacket over him. He stared at the patterns on the brown and beige rug. Initially, he hadn’t planned on falling asleep; he didn’t even think he could. But after a few minutes there, his body adjusted and reminded him that he hadn’t gotten more than a couple hours of sleep the previous night. Not to mention this morning trek to the beach and close escape. He was beyond exhausted.

The last thing Junhui heard before passing out were soft footsteps coming from the window.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mingyu finally made it to the fic! lol. Although I guess technically he appeared in Ch. 3 lol. And just to clear things up, Hao isn't here bc he's at work. We'll see him later on. But hiiiiiii Hao's picture ( ⸝⸝•ᴗ•⸝⸝ )੭⁾⁾
> 
> And now you know why SoonHoon died. Wonwoo was just lucky that he escaped, and so of course, he'd be blamed. More details on that later... 
> 
> So I feel like i should explain a little bit why WonGyuHui's thinking are so different. 
> 
> Hopelessness does a lot to a person, in this case, represented by WonGyu. MG has tried to have an actual life on the island (a loving partner, job, home, etc...). You have a man who's trying his best to conserve and cherish what he DOES have in the midst of tragedy and horror, choosing to turn a blind eye to the terrible things happening in oder to remain sane, forcing himself to be satisfied with what he currently has bc he doesn't see any solution. In other words, he's lost hope of things improving. He thinks that as long as he keeps himself out of trouble, things will be ok. It's not the best strategy (he knows it), but it's the best he can do. He's surviving.
> 
> Wonu, right now, has nothing to lose. He's stuck btwn a rock and hard place, and he's hit rock bottom. The only way is up. So he'll do his damnedest to crawl out and escape. He doesn't want to just survive, he wants to LIVE. He's turning his hopelessness into action. That spark of life that Jun keeps noticing--that's it. And well, he got screwed over by the townspeople, so now he thinks: "fuck it. idc anymore. i'll just worry about myself." We'll hear more of his thoughts in the next chapters, but that's the gist of it.
> 
> Jun isn't part of the curse. He doesn't know what it feels like. He can try, but he hasn't lived through it. He holds ideals. And in a way, he IS the hope. He represents what ALL of them were like when the curse first struck. That's why he got so upset with MG, for essentially, giving up.
> 
> Well... that was a long essay. Sorry lol. If you actually read it, thank you :D
> 
> On a lighter note: "we're a package deal." HECK YEAH, YOU ARE
> 
> As always, thank you for reading and your continuous support! ⸜( ˙˘˙)⸝  
> xoxoxo


	7. Glida Heigh

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WonHui go to the location uncovered by the clues on the map, and run into some creepy trouble.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys, so i'm posting a bit early bc i might not have time tomorrow. so hurray for early posting! ٩(^ᴗ^)۶
> 
> Also, I've gotten a few comments about the "pattern" with making Wonu the villain who initially wants to harm Jun. All I can say without disclosing any spoiler is: pls believe in me and wait until the end. It's not bc I want to paint Wonu in a bad light and turn Jun into a victim for brownie points. I always try to showcase their growth, both individually, as well as, a couple. Character development is important to me, and chaptered fics allow me to dabble. I love your comments, i know that they come from love and jest, but I didn't want anyone to misunderstand my intentions. WonHui are BOTH very much flawed, just in different areas ʅ(́◡◝)ʃ
> 
> OK. ENOUGH OF THAT. Back to the fic (๑>ᴗ<๑) It's an action chapter!!! Finally, geez (¬､¬)
> 
> Warning: Creepy stuff happens in this chapter, which include mild violence and blood. 
> 
> -

 

 

It must have been a few hours later when Junhui woke up, because the sky had darkened significantly and the apartment was lit up by the few stylish floor lamps. He was also really cold, which might have been the reason he’d woken up. The place was dead silent, and he shivered, running his hands over his arms a few times to get the circulation going. When he sat up and put his jacket back on, he noted the thin throw blanket laying over his lap. That wasn’t there when he fell asleep. A little confused, he rubbed at his eyes and looked around for either of the other two males. Seeing no one, he hesitantly walked to the back of the apartment, searching for the bathroom.

As Junhui stared at himself in the mirror above the sink, he fought the urge to pull his hood over his head. Instead, he just grimaced. Chestnut fringe, tangled and matted, clung to his forehead, brown eyes, now bloodshot and swollen from sleep, assessed the rest of his reflection, noting how his clothes were rumpled from lying in them. There’s a sickly paleness to his cheeks that would normally cause Jeonghan to fuss at him, forcing food down his throat. But the older wasn’t here, so Junhui simply looked away.

Ignoring the dread that had accompanied him since he and Wonwoo had returned from the Beach House, Junhui splashed water on his face and brushed out his hair roughly with trembling fingers. He pretended he wasn’t in a stranger’s bathroom, hiding from the local police force, without a single clue as to how he’ll manage to survive. He took another moment just breathing in deeply.

_It’s fine. Things will look up._

If he says it often enough times, he’ll have no choice but to believe it.

When he came back out to the living room, Wonwoo stood by the front door, picking up a set of keys from the hooks. He turned over his shoulder upon hearing the incoming footsteps, and noticed the slightly admonishing look the boy leveled at him. Surprisingly, Wonwoo indulged him with an explanation.

“They’re mine. I’m not stealing anything.”

Junhui smiled lightly, hiding it with a fake yawn and hand over his mouth. “Mm. I didn’t say anything.”

He could have sworn Wonwoo rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t be sure, because within the next second, he was handed the backpack from earlier. All the various items from his mom’s personal effects, in addition to the box with the map, had already been stuffed inside. Wonwoo waited for him to check one last time that he had everything, then they got going.

As they exited the building, Junhui swung the straps over his shoulders, following the other’s example and glancing left and right every few seconds. They took the door leading out into the alley, but this time, other than the dumpsters and stray cats, something else waited there. The key Junhui had initially thought to belong to a car, apparently turned out to be for a sportsbike. Idly, Junhui let his mind drift, finding it cute how the white and red paint matched with the vehicle’s owner. He wondered if it was done deliberately.

Wonwoo purposefully walking up to the bike snapped him out of his musing. A sliver of dread replaced the amusement, when the former handed him one of the helmets.

Holding the protective headgear awkwardly, Junhui asked, “We can’t walk there?”

“We can walk anywhere,” Wonwoo said breezily, climbing on the machine and putting on his helmet. “But we don’t have the time to afford a stroll.”

“R-right.” His stomach churned with the anxiety and fear of the bike, and Junhui chewed his bottom lip raw.

Perhaps sensing his hesitation, Wonwoo looked over his shoulder and sighed. “Junhui, I’m not gonna let you fall, okay?” Then the briefest smirk crossed his expression as he added, “I’ve ridden this bike for longer than you’ve been alive. I think you can trust me not to crash.”

A soft chuckle slipped out of the boy’s lips, and his tense posture relaxed a fraction. The nerves still wrecked havoc on his tummy, but he appreciated the attempt to ease the apprehensiveness. He nodded, trembling fingers gripping the straps.

“Okay.”

Heaving a sigh to calm down, Junhui put on the helmet and threw himself in the water, so to speak. Wonwoo waited until his passenger got seated properly, then started the engine. The roar of the motor was loud. Junhui jumped, hands flying out to fist the red hoodie reflexively, eyes screwed shut and shoulders hunched up. He felt more than he heard the low chuckles coming from the rider. Not that he could give it much thought. Not when the only images he could muster up as the bike sped down the road, were of him losing his grip and falling off, breaking his neck.

He’d never been on a motorcycle before, but he was pretty sure they were breaking the speed limit. Even with the helmet, Junhui couldn’t keep his eyes open, which was probably why he had no real sense of time and distance; he didn’t even think they stopped at traffic lights.

When they finally came to a stop, his whole body buzzed from the extended contact with the purring motor. Junhui cracked my his open, and he paused, frowning in confusion. Why was his face so close to Wonwoo’s back? Close enough that he could detect the faint scent of fresh sea breeze and crisp pines.

Taking a moment to assess his limbs, Junhui registered that his arms were wrapped around Wonwoo’s waist in a death grip, face practically buried between his shoulder blades. Startled by the realization, the passenger sprung away. His arms dropped to his sides, feeling like they’d just carried a ton of bricks. He winced at the soreness from the strain he’d put on them while holding on to Wonwoo for dear life.

“Sorry,” he muttered honestly, getting off and removing the helmet. He really hoped the embarrassment didn’t show on his face.

The rider dismounted, running a hand through his hair to muss it up. “It’s alright,” he replied, pocketing the keyring. “Anything to keep you from falling off.”

Glad to move past a potential awkward moment, Junhui took a look around the dimly lit “streets,” while Wonwoo rolled the bike behind some thick shrubs to hide it. The fog was coming down, making everything appear a lot sadder.

He wasn’t sure what he pictured when Wonwoo mentioned “housing community,” but it sure wasn’t a camp ground piled with dilapidated shacks among overgrown trees and wild vegetations. Throughout the grounds, a few lamp posts stood to provide some light, although merely enough so people wouldn’t run into walls. The houses, if one could call them that, appeared to have been built around the time the town was established. And considering how remote its location was relative to Downtown, he would guess that no one had any interest in living here again anytime soon.

As Junhui retrieved the flashlight out from the backpack, he really hoped that the residents who used to live here merely moved closer to town and weren’t among the thousand of so poor souls who were killed. Cautiously, he looked around.

An owl hooted, and something scurried across his shoes into the bushes. Junhui yelped, almost dropping the flashlight. Heart pounding, he swallowed in air, hating how this isolated and creepy place made him scared of the dark. His eyes darted right and left, searching for anything that could jump out at him. Which was plenty, judging by the frequent rustling on the ground and in the tree tops. After a while, the flashlight became his weapon of choice to chase after every single weird noise, reflexively pointing it into the bushes and around his feet. Of course, he captured nothing more unusual than moving leaves and the occasional critter.

In the midst of walking around in the dark and not watching where he was going, suddenly, Junhui slammed into a wall and stumbled backward. The wall immediately reached out and braced his hands on the flailing boy’s shoulders. Junhui blinked in the dim light.

“I should probably hold the flashlight now,” Wonwoo suggested, reaching for the item.

Junhui winced and bit his bottom lip, worried he’d gotten on his nerves yet again. “Sorry, I’m just a little jumpy out here.”

Wonwoo took the flashlight from the other’s extended hand and softened his voice slightly, “I know you’re scared. Just stay close.”

The comment reassured him a little bit as Wonwoo took charge and led them toward an old announcement board right outside the community entrance. There wasn’t much left on there, besides some indistinct graffiti all over the faded map, which depicted the locations of each shack with their corresponding numbers.

Wonwoo focused the beam of light on one particular annotation. Drawn in red, the number 17 was circled. The boys shared a look.

“Is this considered too obvious of a clue?” Junhui asked out loud.

Wonwoo leaned in close and furrowed his brows. “It’s fresh, relatively.” Then he swiped at the small part of the circle and pulled his index in for closer inspection. “Huh. Looks like wax pastel.”

“Wax pastel?” Junhui echoed, pulling on his hand for a closer look. Who would travel with a set of art supplies? “I think this is lipstick,” he assessed.

They didn’t say it, but the pair shared a glance and a similar thought: the possibility of this having been left by Hayun just increased.

“On to lodge 17 we go,” Wonwoo announced unenthusiastically.

As they walked on the graveled path, stepping over grass and overgrown weeds, Junhui kept a much closer distance to Wonwoo than what could be considered appropriate, but that was the only way he could calm himself enough to not grab the other’s arm whenever a branch snapped or something moved. The fact that Junhui stuffed his hands into his coat helped, too. If Wonwoo noticed how jumpy his companion was, he didn’t comment on it aloud.

They navigated the maze for a good while before they got to the right house. The rickety steps leading to the porch hardly seemed stable enough to uphold the weights of two adults, but thankfully, they only creaked noisily and angrily at them. Cautiously, the pair crossed the threshold, easing past the door that barely hung to its hinges. They scanned the empty rooms at ground level for anything promising, checking inside dressers and closets, poking through the fireplaces, and knocking on walls to see if they’d locate hidden safes.

Spiderwebs hung in all the corners, and a thick layer of dust covered every surface. Looking down, Junhui saw their footsteps creating perfect imprints on the floorboards as he avoided the dead leaves and trash carried in by the wind. There wasn’t much left in terms of furniture, helping him believe that the residents moved away on their own accord, rather than having been forcefully taken away.

That was probably the only comforting thought he could muster, as he bit back a squeak when the shutters on the nearest window banged against the wall from a sudden gust of wind. Whatever his mom left behind, he hoped they could find it quickly and leave before his heart gave out from the sheer anxiety alone.

In the hallway, an icy draft caused the peeling pieces of wallpaper to flap and the broken hinges to creak. Junhui shivered, glancing around for the source of the wind, and realizing this part of the roof had caved in. _Please, don’t let it rain again_.

With the whole house explored, the only place left to search was the basement.Junhui not so subtly hid behind him as Wonwoo reached and twisted the knob. The door opened to almost complete darkness, and Wonwoo shone the light down the steps to make sure they were still functional. So far so good, Junhui thought, as he peeked over his partner’s shoulders, relieved that nothing—either paranormal or not—had jumped or crawled out of the shadows.

Wonwoo walked forward without much hesitance. However, sensing the boy not following as closely as he had been all evening, he looked back, a brow arched.

“You coming?”

“Yeah,” Junhui squeaked out, still eyeing the darkness, which somehow lookedeven darker than the rest of the house, with apprehension. “Why do these things always take place in the basement?” he muttered under his breath, curling his fingers into his sleeves.

Wonwoo smirked, but didn’t comment. Junhui followed behind, noticing a railing on the left. Glad to have something to grab in case he lost his footing, Junhui trailed his hand along the old and worn out wood. Halfway down, something sharp stung his fingers, and he yelped in surprise, jerking his hand to his own chest.

“What’s wrong?” Wonwoo swiveled around, light illuminating the space between them.

Putting his hand out, he could see a few drops of blood oozing from his middle finger. “Nothing, just a nail or something pricked me.” He really hoped his tetanus shots were up to date.

“There should be some tissues in the front pocket.”

“Oh. Thanks.” He swung the backpack to his chest and dug through the pouch. It was only a small prick of the finger, so he just wrapped the tissue around the wound to help it clot faster.

At the bottom of the steps, Wonwoo swept the light around the room. It was completely empty except for a trunk in the corner. They made their way down the rest of the stairs and headed for it.

The moment his feet hit the floor, the basement door slammed shut. Junhui started with a gasp. Wonwoo spun around, pointing the light in the direction of the noise. Instinctually, he nudged Junhui away, barring the boy from the stairs and door.

“That was the wind, right?” Junhui whispered, glancing at him with wide eyes, needing the reassurance.

They listened for more anomalies that would suggest the pair weren’t alone, but they didn’t hear anything else, just the quiet murmur of the night they’d heard all evening.

Looking over his shoulder at him, Wonwoo suggested, “Let’s just check out what Hayun left and get out of here.”

Junhui couldn’t agree more.

On his knees, he noted that the trunk was locked with a deadbolt. Wonwoo didn’t miss a beat. He handed him the flashlight and unzipped the backpack to retrieve the mysterious key found with Hayun’s things. While Junhui held the light, he inserted it into the lock and successfully opened the trunk. Inside, they took out a pack of white chalk and a scroll tied with a yellow ribbon.

“Mom used to wear these,” Junhui still whispered, holding the satin between his fingers. “We have to be on the right track.”

Wonwoo didn’t respond aside from a nod, as he put the newfound items into the backpack.

They stood up to leave, when heavy footfall stomped above their heads. Both froze.

Someone was walking around the house, their steps resulting in dust drifting down the thin cracks in the floorboards. Wonwoo slowly lowered the flashlight to the ground just in case they would notice it, however unlikely. They stood still and listened to the intruder. At some point, Junhui stopped breathing, staring upward as if he could see through the floor. The person’s steps sounded louder as they approached their current location.

Wonwoo tugged on his arm, motioning for him to be as quiet as possible. Junhui nodded, following him to the space under the stairs. Wonwoo turned off the flashlight and put it away as they shuffled around the hiding place.

There wasn’t enough space for two people, crouched like this, much less boys as tall as them. Being so close to him, Junhui was afraid he could hear the pounding of his heart and the shortness of his breath, which to Junhui sounded absolutely too loud in this oppressing darkness. Worse, something crawled over his hand, and had Wonwoo not pressed his own hand to cover the other’s mouth, Junhui would have shrieked.

Suddenly, the door crashed against the wall, casting a rectangular, yellow glow down the steps, spilling onto the ground. Junhui flinched, both from shock and the sudden brightness. His hands fisted the fabric of the red hoodie to ground himself, breath heavy against Wonwoo’s palm still clasped over his mouth.

The footfall coordinated with the appearance of the intruder’s black figure at the top of the stairs. He seemed to take a minute to assess the basement, as if looking through the shadows seeking them, _knowing_ they were down here. Junhui swallowed, fingers clutching the hoodie tighter. Wonwoo pressed the palm of his free hand against the boy’s back, a silent show of reassurance. Junhui nodded gingerly, grateful for even such a simple gesture.

Agonizingly slowly, the intruder descended, weight causing the old wood to creak ominously. A few steps down, his shoes could be seen through the gaps mere inches away from their noses.

Junhui darted his eyes around the room, desperately trying to find an exit he knew didn’t exist. They were below ground level; not even a window was viable. With the intruder blocking the only way out, they didn’t have an escape. They were cornered like rats.

_That’s it. This is how I’m going to die._

With the light coming from upstairs, Junhui could see Wonwoo shift his weight, his eyes calculating something as he let go of the boy and stared at the intruder through the gaps of the staircase. The latter took another step down. While his right foot rose up to descend, Wonwoo shocked both the intruder and Junhui by grabbing the man's ankle and yanking on it, _hard_.

The man lost his balance and collapsed. Junhui heard a sharp _smack_ as his body hit the planks, followed by the sound of his skull cracking on the stone ground. Junhui’s hand flew to his mouth, eyes huge and round. The fallen male laid motionless.

Wonwoo nudged Junhui out from under the stairs and went to check the intruder’s identity. He pulled the body completely off of the stairs, then flipped him over. The man appeared to be in his forties, with fair, short hair, wearing nondescript clothing that wouldn’t attract any attention. His forehead was split open, and blood pooled.

“Is he...?” Junhui began to ask in a shaking voice.

Wonwoo examined the blood flow. “As a doornail, or will be pretty soon, at any rate,” he replied dismissively.

Junhui shuddered, turning away from the gore. How many of Krius’ men had Wonwoo killed that the whole ordeal unfazed him now? Did his own mother participate? Shaking his head, he tried not to ponder it.

“If he’s here, that means we’ve been watched since we left Mingyu’s place.” Wonwoo pushed himself up, looking at the upper floor. “They always come in pairs,” he noted. “So where’s the other one?”

They cautiously made their way back to the top part of the house. Standing by the doorway, they didn’t notice anything different, except that now the few remaining oil lamps on the walls were lit—the source of the yellow glow. The house looked even more broken down than Junhui had pictured when they could only see bits and pieces with the flashlight.

“Stay here,” Wonwoo said. Not waiting for a response, he took off down the hall and disappeared around the corner.

Junhui stood there, fidgeting with his sleeves and zipper, waiting for what felt like hours for his return. Everything sounded too quiet, muffled, which seemed extremely weird and unsettling.

A crash, followed by glass shattering broke through the thick fog of silence. Without even thinking, Junhui ran toward the direction of the clatter. More things broke as he got closer, and now he could hear grunts and punches. At last, he arrived at the scene.

Lying flat on his back, Wonwoo was held down by a man twice his size, huge and meaty hands wrapped around his neck. His beanie had fallen off during the fight, exposing his head and the ebony locks. Even though it was no more than a wool hat, he appeared so much more vulnerable without it. All around them were evidence of their struggle—shattered glass, a flipped table, and splintered chairs.

Frantically, Junhui scanned those items for something heavy enough to smash against the assailant before Wonwoo completely blacked out.

He grabbed the chair closest to him and hurled it at the bald head. The brute slumped to the side with a grunt, letting go of Wonwoo. The latter rolled away, coughing and gasping for air. That was all Junhui could see before the brute stood up and blocked his view.

Slowly, he turned around to face the boy; a scream rose but lodged itself in Junhui’s throat. He stumbled backward, arms flailing, eyes glued to the attacker’s face. His foot caught against an obstacle, and Junhui fell backward, landing in a heap on the floor. From this angle, the man appeared enormous, tall and bulky frame looming over him. But his size wasn’t what took Junhui’s voice away.

It was his face: white as ash, leaning closer and closer to his. He had no eyes. The sockets were black and empty, yet remnants of blood poured out of the holes and streaked down his cheeks. It looked as though his eyes had been brutally ripped out some time ago. His mouth, too wide, was sewn shut with black thread. An inhuman growl bubbled out of his throat as he stretched his thin lips, tearing stitches and ripping his flesh. He lunged forward, his bleached hands aiming for the boy’s throat.

Junhui shrieked, arms swinging and legs kicking in a blind attempt to block him.

Something struck the monster from the back. While he still reeled from the hit, another one came, harder this time. Junhui got to his feet and ran out of the way. Panting, he saw Wonwoo holding a chair and used it to bash the creep’s head over and over again. The monster fell to his knees, and another hit sent him to the ground. At that point, Wonwoo broke off one chair leg and rammed it into the monster’s throat, nailing him there. The creep convulsed, then laid still.

Wonwoo threw the chair to the side and bent over, resting his hands on his knees, getting as much air as he possibly could.

“Thank you,” Junhui said once he found his breath.

Wonwoo shook his head, picking up his black hat among the mess. After dusting it, he put it back on. “We’re even.”

 

»»————- ✧ *: ･ﾟ ✧ ————-««

 

The motorcycle roared down the dirt road, taking the both of them away from Glida Heigh. After the sound of the engine could no longer be heard, she emerged from the shadows and headed for lodge number seventeen.

The oil lamps still burned when she stepped over the threshold. She walked past the parlor, noticing the dead corpse impaled on the floor. She was glad Wonwoo and Junhui escaped his clutches, but she knew that more would come for them. Accordingly, she had to do what she could to help their quest. Even if they themselves weren’t aware of what that journey entailed. Yet.

Leading them in the right direction was her responsibility.

Wonwoo had determination, courage, skills, and a fighting spirit; however, after his closest friends’ deaths, he lost view of his purpose. She had observed him closely, and selfishness didn’t suit him. She dared to hope that Junhui’s pure heart and idealism would remind him of the man he once was. Then together, they might very well bring an end to this curse.

She crossed the house to the basement, seeing another body at the bottom of the steps. Scanning the railing, she spotted the nail, its sharp point holding a few drops of Junhui’s blood. With practical ease, she flicked her wrist. The motion of her hand over the railing created a soft air current, and her magic split the wood in half, freeing the nail. She levitated it and dropped it inside the small vial she held. Corking it, she put the vial in her purse and left the building.

 

»»————- ✧ *: ･ﾟ ✧ ————-««

 

Wonwoo set a hot mug of coffee on the low stool in front of Junhui. Holding his own, he leaned against the desk. They were in yet another stranger’s apartment, and Junhui was only too glad to have a relatively safe place to stay after what happened at the shack. They currently took refuge at a loft in an old fish warehouse by the harbor. From the settled dust and clutter, he inferred that it had been abandoned for a while. Consequently, it was freezing. The hot beverage calmed the chills partially, and he rejoiced at the small comfort.

Because of everything that had happened merely an hour ago, Junhui hadn’t yet asked him whose place this belonged to. Although he did wonder how many other living spaces Wonwoo had access to in this town. He definitely had a knack for snatching keys and breaking locks.

Whoever lived here didn’t have much. Right inside the door, there was a small dresser with a missing third drawer, then came the desk that Wonwoo currently leaned against, and a small stool placed in front of the old mattress Junhui was sitting on. On the desk, the owner had left behind an electric two-plate stove, a coffee can, some chipped dishware, a coffee maker, and a lamp. The rest basically comprised of empty space, not that there was a lot of it. As he looked around, he noted that at least the electricity worked, the ceiling didn’t leak, and the flat was relatively clean. Of course, ignoring the lingering smell of fish in the air.

Wonwoo downed his coffee, then turned to face the window that looked down to the warehouse floor with its forgotten shipping containers. With the warmth of the coffee coursing through his veins, Junhui stood up and went over to the tiny sink in the corner. He washed his hands, biting back a hiss at the freezing water, and took the opportunity to examine the cut on his finger.

It’d stopped bleeding long ago, and now he could see that the tear was larger than he’d thought. _Great_. Knowing how fortunate he’d been lately, the finger will probably get infected and fall off. Drying his hands as best as he could on his jeans, he returned to the mattress and took out what they found at the lodge.

Hearing the zipper, Wonwoo looked over his shoulder, but he didn’t comment as Junhui examined the scroll. The latter untied the ribbon and set it down before rolling out the paper. Drawn intricately, the artist had managed to design beautiful lines and curves into a circle that prompted him to think of some kind of emblem or insignia. Other than the design, the artist didn’t leave any notes on the front nor back. He examined the chalk next; there were about a dozen pieces. At first glance, they appeared to be no different than the kind he’d seen all his life. Upon closer inspection, however, he noticed tiny specs of purple crystals within the grain. They sparkled like amethyst. Again, no instruction.

The sudden grumbling of his stomach took him by surprise, and Junhui clasped his arms over his belly. Sheepishly, he glanced up toward Wonwoo, hoping he hadn’t heard.

He heard. “When was the last meal you had?”

“Uh...” Junhui thought back, realizing he hadn’t fully eaten since he left the Kwons’ dinner table. It was a wonder he hadn’t passed out from hypoglycemia yet. Maybe one could survive solely on coffee and water, after all. “It’s okay. I’m fine.” His belly, angry at the lie, decided to speak its mind. He pressed his arms tighter around himself.

Rolling his eyes, Wonwoo shook his head and checked his watch. “Your stomach doesn’t seem to agree.”

God, this was embarrassing. Junhui pushed his hands through his hair, lowering his eyes. He was about to repeat himself, that he could handle it, but Wonwoo interrupted.

“The bistro around here is still open,” he said. “Sandwich okay?”

Surprised by his concern, the boy glanced up with round eyes. “Don’t you think we should stay out of sight as much as possible?” he asked hesitantly, fingers finding his sleeves to tug on.

“That’s why _you_ are going to stay here.”

“Alone?” Okay, that was stupid, but the word escaped before the brain-to-mouth filter could stop it.

Heading for the door, Wonwoo replied dismissively, “Unless the owner decides to come back.”

“What?”

Ignoring the shocked squeak, Wonwoo smirked and suggested, “I'll grab us something to eat. In the meantime, give that journal another try.” Then he closed the door on his way out.

 

»»————- ✧ *: ･ﾟ ✧ ————-««

 

Knowing the drill, Wonwoo stealthily navigated the familiar old streets. He hugged the walls and remained in the shadows for as long as possible, avoiding crossing through the light beams coming from the lampposts lining the streets. He checked over his shoulders every few feet, ears straining for footsteps, face lowered but eyes scanning his surrounding. The fog was rolling in, masking his movements.

This wasn’t the first time he’d had to keep a low profile, and he highly doubted it would be the last. Although, he had to admit that running into Krius’ guards _and_ mercenaries on the same day was new. Wonwoo usually had to settle for only one of them every other day. Junhui sure knew how to attract attention. More worthy of attention, the boy also knew how to pick up a good trail, something Wonwoo had failed to do lately.

At the rate the pair were going, it wouldn’t be long until they found Hayun, or more realistically, what became of her. Even before she went missing, Hayun had been on the run from Krius, changing locations often and sporadically enough to cover her tracks. The night Soonyoung and Wonwoo were caught was also the last time the latter saw Hayun alive. The four of them had gotten separated that evening when his henchmen raided the safe-house. Wonwoo had gone with Soonyoung, and Hayun had followed Jihoon. After Wonwoo had escaped and learned what they did to Soonyoung the next morning, Wonwoo sought out the other two.

Jihoon was sitting alone in the back of Mingyu’s bar. Wonwoo glanced over at Mingyu, and the younger nodded, letting him know that none of Krius’ men were currently present. Wonwoo quickly moved through the tables to reach Jihoon’s.

Upon his appearance, his friend leapt up, his eyes alert and fists at the ready. Seeing that it was Wonwoo, he relaxed the defensive pose, and settled down with a relieved sigh.

“Glad to see you made it out.” He inhaled, then took a swig of his drink. “I just heard about Soonyoung.”

Wonwoo turned away like he’d been slapped. The guilt and anger rose, and he fisted his hands under the table. “Just be grateful we’re still alive,” he said bitterly through clenched teeth. “Where’s Hayun?”

“Gone.”

“What?” He spun his head toward him.

“We hid out in the fish warehouse,” Jihoon explained, “And when I woke up this morning, she was gone.”

“Did you go to her usual spots?” Wonwoo wanted to know. They couldn’t afford to lose more people.

“What do you think I’ve been doing all morning?” He sounded exhausted, his dejected voice that of one who was at the end of the line. Now that Wonwoo really looked at him, he could see the dark rings under his eyes, made all the more apparent by the pallidness of his skin.

Taking a deep breath, Wonwoo rubbed his face roughly, trying to think. “We have to keep going.”

“And how do you plan on doing that?” he questioned the other’s sanity. “All the troops we’ve managed to convince to help are now either locked up in jail or too scared to come out of their houses. Soonyoung’s dead, and Hayun is nowhere to be found. Neither one of us knows how to cast spells, so even if we were lucky enough to come across the ‘pulse points’ they were talking about, there wouldn’t be anything we could do.”

“So what? You just want to give up? What about becoming free? What about your music?”

Jihoon, always cautious and rational, paused for a moment and sighed. “I'm not giving him, but I think we need to lay low for while. Use that hiatus to find Hayun.” He studied him, then nudged at his shoulder gently. “We need time to rest, too, Wonwoo. Charging head-first into battle without strategy is suicide.”

With reluctance, Wonwoo listened to the suggestion. Not that it did Jihoon any good, in the end.

His body was found by the cliffs three days later.

Hayun didn’t attend the funeral. Consequently, after the service, Wonwoo decided to check out the Beach House.

It had looked lived-in, but after a couple days waiting for her to return, he’d realized that she was on the run again. Not wanting to become a sitting duck himself, Wonwoo left. A week later, he returned, and he noted the slight changes: the used candles and oil lamps, the placement of certain cups and dishes. She frequented the house, but never seemed to be around when he was. At least then, he knew she was still in the vicinity, just hidden.

He followed Jihoon’s advise and stopped meddling for a few weeks, going about daily activities. Weeks turned into months, and before long, two years had gone by. He would frequent her preferred hideouts and find traces of her: pens, half-burned notes, hair pins, etc... But no actual Hayun.

One night, a little less than a month ago, Wonwoo woke up to the ruckus of the guards charging through the streets. Outside the door the next morning, a small package was left for him. Inside was her journal. He set off to her last known location; the Beach House was empty.

Unlike the last few times, her clothes and personal belongings remained. Either she heard the guards coming for her and only managed to escape by a small margin, forced to leave behind her stuff, or they finally caught her. Given the lack of a body, he couldn’t absolutely conclude that she was dead. But really, what were the chances?

He didn’t share any of this with Junhui, lest the boy got spooked and bolted on the first ferry. Wonwoo needed him to believe that there was still hope (and maybe there was) of finding Hayun. It was his sole motivation to stay and decode the journal. His success would be beneficial to the both them. Wonwoo would finally get to leave this blasted island behind, and Junhui wouldn't be stuck in the battle and used as a bargaining chip.

In exchange for the boy’s contribution, Wonwoo kept him alive during his stay. And if Junhui were to unearth information about Hayun in the process, it’d be a nice bonus.

Now, the bistro came into view, and Wonwoo shut away his musings for some other time. He slipped to the back and snuck in. The kitchen crew was slowly cleaning up, getting ready to close down for the night. He peered in the open doorway, seeing only two other people besides Chan.

Coming here nowadays, a weight often descended on his shoulders. Back then, Soonyoung had often brought him and Jihoon to grab a bite before they set off. Now being here without them unsettled him. Moreover, every time he saw Chan, Wonwoo was reminded of his brother and of what happened to Soonyoung that night. Shutting his eyes, Wonwoo focused on the present. Junhui couldn’t be left alone for too long.

Wonwoo waited until the employees had their backs turned to wave for Chan’s attention. The younger looked up from his inventory. Before he got up to come over, he cast a quick glance toward the other two employees. One of them switched on the tap, and they got started on the dishes, conversing softly.

Within hearing range, Chan opened his mouth to speak to him, but Wonwoo cut in before he could. “Do you still have anything to eat?” he asked, getting straight to the subject.

“Not even a greeting, huh,” the younger retorted with a snort.

Wonwoo smiled wryly. “I’m sort of in a hurry, being on the run and all.”

Chan rolled his eyes. “Why am I not surprised?” he muttered, adding, “We still have some sandwiches left. I’ll grab you one.”

“Two,” he corrected.

“Two?” Chan repeated, a little unsure.

“Yes, I’m hungry.”

Not looking exactly convinced, he nodded anyway. “Okay...” He opened the fridge and took out two subs. Chan made conversation as he walked back to him. “So do you know if Junhui made it to the mainland?”

Not changing his expression beyond slight interest, Wonwoo asked, “Who?”

“Wen Junhui—Hayun’s son.” Chan watched the older’s face closely, trying to detect the lie. Much the same way he had studied Wonwoo this morning at the apartment door. Chan had asked the older to join him for breakfast, and when Wonwoo had declined the invitation on grounds of being busy, the boy had immediately wondered the reason.

Being subjected to that kind of scrutiny a second time made Wonwoo wary. The first time he could have overlooked, but now Chan seemed too invested. Why? What was he trying to get to?

Lying about knowing Junhui was a reflex. Wonwoo didn’t want others to know with whom he associated himself with, because most of the time, his acquaintances also topped the Most Wanted list. The less people knew about them, the better. Especially when the townspeople showed no qualms about ratting him out to Krius. He didn’t believe in anyone’s word. Being Soonyoung’s brother didn’t exclude Chan from his wariness. Wonwoo didn’t trust the kid beyond polite conversation. He may know about Wonwoo’s involvement and desire to escape, but that didn’t mean he should know more.

“Oh.” Wonwoo shrugged now, unimpressed, expression blank. “Why do you think I'd know anything about that?”

Shifting his weight, Chan reasoned, “He was here yesterday. I just thought you’d have gone and talked to him or something.”

“Can’t say I have.”

“You haven’t seen him?” the younger insisted, his eyes squinting a fraction.

Heaving an annoyed sigh, Wonwoo replied, “No, and I really don’t see why you keep asking about someone who’s not here.”

Chan cracked a smile. “Don’t play dumb, Wonwoo. You know Junhui can get you off the island.” Maintaining eye contact, he added, “One way or another.”

Wonwoo nodded as if contemplating the facts. “In that case, it’s a real tragedy that I haven’t had the chance to meet him.”

The way Chan stared at him justified Wonwoo's reason for withholding information. “He showed up at my parents’ shop, saying Lee Jihoon wrote to him and asked him to come here. You don’t think that’s strange?” Again, Chan was fishing, but Wonwoo wasn’t biting the bait.

He raised a brow. “Jihoon wrote to the kid from his grave, perhaps.”

More accusing statements threatened to escape Chan’s mouth, but Wonwoo interjected, “Not that this isn’t _fascinating_ conversation, but I have to get going. Wen Junhui is well on his way back home, so discussing our potential meeting is now a moot point. May I please get my food now?”

Grumbling and glaring at him, Chan set the subs into the older’s hands with more force than necessary. “For his sake, I do hope he got on this morning’s ferry. A lot of people would like to meet him, and not all of them are friendly.”

Deep down, he knew Chan was right. How could he forget both attacks merely an hour ago? Keeping Junhui alive was his business, though, and Chan didn’t have any reason to be worried about it. Did he?

Although it was highly unlikely for Chan to follow him, Wonwoo didn’t take any chances. The bistro was closing within a few minutes, so he walked across the street and waited in the dark until he saw Chan and the others exit and lock the establishment. Then Wonwoo took the long way back to the fish warehouse.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Was it scary? No, right. Pfftt, we're all big kids here! lol. But daaaaaamn, jeon wonwoo out there being savage AF. you go, boy! no one messes with you! (ง'̀-'́)ง And then you have brave little kitty, shaking in his boots, but still fighting. Fierce!!!
> 
> But who was that mysterious woman??? and what does she plan on doing with Jun's blood??? (∩╹□╹∩) Suspense!!!
> 
> Wonwoo owning a motorcycle... ah, TTLW pls don't @me... i'll get back to it （／_＼）
> 
> Anyway, thank you for reading! We'll be back next time with some more EXCITEMENT! OoOooH~


	8. Bargain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chan has a life-changing meeting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, i am SO SORRY, but i messed up on the chapters and totally forgot to upload this one! Which is sort of a huge deal. So again, i am really really sorry T_T
> 
> This takes place while WonHui are hanging out at GyuHao's place, and later on go to the abandoned house. 
> 
> -

 

 

Finally, the last patrons left the bistro around three in the afternoon. The lunch hour didn’t carry on for this long, usually. Today simply continued to get stranger. Now that his head wasn’t filled with food and drink orders, it wandered back to the notes Krius presumably sent Chan this morning, as well as to Wonwoo’s behavior. What was the older boy hiding in his apartment, or more importantly, _whom_ was he protecting from outsiders?

Chan’s stomach dropped imagining the possibility that Wonwoo did persuade Junhui to stay. He should know, more than anyone, how dangerous that was for all involved. But Chan supposed that wasn’t the issue. Of course, Wonwoo knew the consequences, he just didn’t care. All he wanted was to get out, at whatever cost. Anger rose in the younger, and he stepped outside to get some fresh air.

Chan had just sat down at one of the tables placed on the terrace, when two guards approached around the corner. Composing his expression, he feigned indifference even as his insides shook. Patrolling guards at this time wasn’t uncommon; there was no need to panic, he told himself. Still, he swallowed nervously when they proceeded down the sidewalk toward him. Maybe their route involved this street today, or they simply planned on going for a drink. Chan glanced at them from the corner of his eye, willing the trembles to subside. Something in their glassy glazes put him on edge.

“Mr. Kwon Lee Chan,” the taller of the men stated.

The boy fisted his hands under the table and looked up at their imposing figures, relaxing his shoulders in hopes of appearing meek enough. “Yes?”

“Master Krius would like a word with you,” the blond guard said, his gruff voice leaving no choice in the matter. This was a demand.

Sighing out a shaky breath, Chan nodded and stood up. They stepped aside for him to move out into the sidewalk, then they escorted him to the back lot, where a black vehicle with tinted windows awaited. His heart pounded in his chest, and his knees shook as he climbed in. He could only hope to make it out unscathed.

The inside was so dark, he could hardly see anything. Shadows moved, and he assumed that his escorts sat in the front. The last door closed shut, and the locks clicked. Chan sucked in a breath as the car drove away. Perhaps the nerves were the cause, but the ride dragged out for so long he almost thought they were circling the whole island. During the whole journey, he kept his hands fisted over his knees, knuckles turning white from the sheer strain, nails biting little indents into his palms.

At last, the car stopped. He shook out his arm to dispel the numbness. His trembling hand struggled to feel the latch to open the door; however, before he could find it, it opened from outside. The guard with the red beard waited for him to step out.

Once again, the guards flanked his sides as they climbed the tall set of staircases into the cliffside castle.

The long halls were covered in glittery chandeliers overhead and brightly colored rugs under his feet. It seemed that, unlike the town, Krius hadn’t remodeled his castle to match the 21st century. The colorful objects made his temples throb; it was as if the contrast of the gloom and doom of everyday life had dulled his eyes, and such colors were too intense for him to handle at once. His vision spun as the guards led him down several corridors, making turns every so often.

Eventually, they stopped in front of a closed door. One of the men knocked, and a voice inside mumbled something. They opened the door and gestured for him to go in. The moment he walked past the threshold, the door closed behind him, and Chan found himself standing in a cramped, dark room.

The curtains were drawn, and the burning fire in the hearth only offered so much light.Smoky firewood and fresh tea mingled in the air. Despite the comforting smell, Chan looked around anxiously. The room was furnished as a study of some sort, books lined the shelves, and a large table took up most of the space. As his eyes adjusted, he discerned the back of a large chair on the other end.

“Please be seated, my child,” the man—Krius?—said.

A hand appeared over the back of the throne. He flicked his wrist, and suddenly a chair appeared behind the young guest.

Cautiously, Chan pulled it closer and sat as ordered.

“Now tell me what you know!” he exclaimed. His voice, having never heard it before, cause goosebumps to rise over Chan’s arms. It was such a discordant sound, low in pitch and gravely, yet giddy and impish. Undoubtedly, though, he spoke with enough implied threat that the boy hesitated before responding. He wasn’t sure what would be the cost of a wrong answer.

Chan inhaled, and let it out slowly. “I’m sorry, sir, but I’m not sure what you mean.”

He laughed, a distorted playfulness mixed with dark amusement. “I want you to tell me what you know about that Wen boy!”

Chan’s eyes nearly popped out of their sockets as his breath hitched. He quickly tried to deny everything, but Krius cut him off.

“Do not lie to me, Channie,” he warned, the playfulness dwindling. “I know you have made contact with him, and I know you tried to make him leave our lovely town.”

_Tried_. Junhui was still here. _Damn you to hell, Jeon Wonwoo!_

“I—” Nothing came to mind. Chan sat there trembling like a leaf, mouth gaping.

“Stop fretting so much, child!” he ordered, and Chan willed himself to do as he asked to no avail. He shoved his shaky hands under his thighs and crossed his ankles.

“If I had wanted to suck out those pretty little thoughts of yours, I would have already done so.” Krius laughed again, the sound so shrill, it took the boy everything not to wince.

Although his comment did reassure him, somewhat. If Krius had wanted to extract information of out of him using magic, he wouldn’t be sitting here. He would be writhing on the floor.

“You see, Wen Junhui poses a threat to this wonderful town of ours,” Krius explained. “I sent Hayun away and made her swear never to return for a reason. The Myeong bloodline has great power. Had those witches not tried to kill me, we would’ve made quite a fearful alliance." He sighed wistfully. "Unfortunately, we did not see eye to eye, and I had to do what benefitted me. Because of your brother and their friends, Hayun returned, not that she could do much to stop me all by herself.”

“I don’t know anything about Hayun—”

Krius cut him off. “I’m not worried about her! She’s dead. My men chased her off of the Eastern cliffs, and she fell into the ocean,” he said offhandedly.

Chan’s ears rung from the shock of the news. Is that what really happened to Hayun? First Soonyoung, now Hayun. They never should’ve listened to Wonwoo.

Krius’ high pitched exclamation snapped him out of his musings. “It’s her son I’m interested in. Innocent little Junhui,” he cackled. “He’s the last descendant of the Myeong lineage, which means his powers have yet to be divided between him and his offspring. Were I to harvest it, well...”

The dark and menacing chuckle he let out made Chan shiver.

Clearing his throat, Krius went on, “I am willing to make you a deal you cannot refuse!” he claimed. “In exchange for the information you hold and will procure for me, I will pay you a lump sum.”

“I don’t need money,” Chan replied warily.

As if he had just told the funniest joke, Krius laughed merrily. Chan shuddered. “No, of course not! But can you blame me for trying? After all, turning rocks to diamonds is much easier than bringing the dead back to life!”

Chan frowned, reminded of the notes Krius had sent. “No one can bring the dead back to life,” the asserted.

“Really?” The top of his head turned slightly, then his hand appeared again. Another twirl of the wrist, and a cloud of black smoke materialized a few feet from the young guest. The latter jumped out of the chair in shock, slowly backing away, eyes flickering between the potential threat and Krius.

As the smoke dispersed, his eyes turned round and his mouth hung open.

“Soonyoung?” he whispered, watching as his brother struggled to find his footing. His frightened and confused brown eyes locked on his. His brother’s black locks were in disarray, and his clothes soiled. But he looked... healthy. And alive. Soonyoung was alive.

“Chan, what—what are we doing here?” Then Soonyoung shifted and saw Krius. He balked, stepping backward toward the fireplace. “What’s going on?” Even as he moved like a caged animal, his hands shot out and gripped the fire poker. “Channie?”

Krius, instead of feeling threatened, chuckled at the futile attempt. “Careful, my dear. You don’t want to hurt yourself.”

“Chan,” Soonyoung called out to the younger, but his glare was still directed at Krius. His body coiled, like a snake ready to strike. “Whatever he told you, do not listen to him. You know what he did, what he’s capable of. He’s evil!”

Taking mock offense, Krius gasped and tsked. “That is not very nice.”

“You killed me!”

“But I also brought you back!” he retorted, the jubilation clear in his voice.

Chan sat there, mute. What was he supposed to do? Tears pooled in his eyes, blurring his vision. He had missed his brother so much; he couldn’t bring himself to believe that it was possible.

“So, Channie,” Krius began persuasively, “A life for a life. You bring me Wen Junhui in exchange for your brother.”

Soonyoung gasped sharply once he understood what was at stake here, whipping around to stare at the younger boy with wide eyes. “No, don’t—!”

_Poof!_

“Soonyoung!” Chan screamed and lunged for him. The boy flew through the cloud of black smoke and landed on the floor. Alone.

With tears in his eyes, Chan turned back to Krius’ chair, which creaked as he spun it slightly side of side, eager.

“Do we have a deal?”

 

For the remainder of the day, Chan moved in a haze, unable to convince himself that he had met with Krius and survived to tell the tale, so to speak. More importantly, he’d seen his brother. How he wished he could have hugged him and told him how much he loved him. But he hadn’t had the chance.

No matter. He’d soon see Soonyoung again, and this time he would stay with him and their parents forever. Then everything would go back to normal. They wouldn’t let Soonyoung associate himself with Wonwoo anymore, besides, Wonwoo would be too busy hitting his head against the wall in his pursuit of finding a way off the island to care about his supposed best friend. Which would be for the better.

Of course Chan felt awful about what he had to do to Junhui, but what other choice did he have? Junhui should have listened to him and gone home. If he had done so, Krius would have no reason to dangle Soonyoung’s life in front of his nose, and Junhui would be alive, safely at home with his father.

Relenting with a sigh, Chan told himself there was no point in thinking about “ifs.” The deal was made, and even if he wanted to change his mind—which he didn’t—there was nothing he could do now.

That night, Wonwoo came into the bistro for food just as he did in the past with Soonyoung and Jihoon. A pang in Chan’s chest caused him to inhale sharply. As the two of them talked, it was obvious that Wonwoo was a good liar. If Chan didn’t know better, he would’ve bought his story and believed Junhui to be long gone. At one point, Chan even considered telling him about the deal with Krius and gain Wonwoo’s cooperation. Chan was positive that if Wonwoo helped, Krius would be willing to pay for his services.

Ultimately, though, Chan decided against it. Something about Wonwoo’s denial struck him as a sign to keep the deal secret. Wonwoo, for whatever reason, wanted to keep Junhui to himself, which in itself proved to be out of character considering his habitual cold demeanor.

Obviously, Wonwoo couldn’t be protecting Junhui out of the goodness of his dead heart. What was he trying to get from him? Was he really planning on working with the witchling to resume the coup he and the rest had attempted before things fell apart? Or was he just trying to free himself from the Pact?

In the latter case, Chan might be able to recruit Wonwoo’s help.

But what if the two of them were playing hero and tried to overthrow Krius? If they succeeded, Chan would lose his chance at seeing Soonyoung ever again.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Channie Channie Channie... *deep sigh* （◞‸◟）
> 
> BUT SOONYOUNG!!!!!! ˚‧º·(˚ ˃̣̣̥⌓˂̣̣̥ )‧º·˚and Jun's mom!!!
> 
> What do you guys think of Krius? 0.0 
> 
> Once again, i am so sorry for the mess up! I hope you guys don't get confused... If there's questions, feel free to ask! Thank you for reading!  
> xoxoxo


	9. Mysterious Gift

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jun manages to decode part of Hayun's journal, and someone stops by the warehouse. There's also a cat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello beautiful people, i hope you had a good weekend! Another early update bc we're having family over, which means i'll have to pretend to be normal. At any rate, this chapter should provide some more info on what's going on, along with a _tiny_ whiff of fluff. 
> 
> Hope you'll like it! ^_^
> 
> P.S.: there is mention of blood, although it's minuscule. just a heads-up just in case!
> 
> -

 

 

 

_Okay, let’s give this another try._

Flipping through his mom’s journal, Junhui forced himself to understand the gibberish she wrote.

Ten minutes and a headache later, he put it down and rubbed his eyes in hopes of appeasing the soreness. This was ridiculous. Pulling his knees to hischest, he glared at the cover and puffed out his cheeks. Wonwoo said it was protected by blood magic, so why couldn’t Junhui read it?

Light scratching coming from one of the windows startled him, and Junhui bolted upright. He grabbed the flashlight and prepared to defend himself, adrenaline pumping vigorously through his veins. Eyes locked on the window frame, he watched as it got pushed open, then something small and dark fell through the opening. The shadows proved too thick for him to see, and his heartbeat increased with every passing second. Gulping, he tightened his fingers around the cold metal and took a step forward.

_“Meow.”_

“Huh?”

A scrawny little gray cat emerged from the dark, its fur slightly damp from the light rain. It looked up at Junhui with bright green eyes, mewling softly once more. From what Junhui could see, it didn’t look feral, so he knelt down and put aside the flashlight.

“Hello, little buddy.” He put a hand out toward his visitor. “Are you the warehouse owner Wonwoo warned me about?”

_“Meow.”_

“I don’t have any food,” he said sadly once the cat started to rub its head against his leg. “But I can keep you warm if you want.” When it didn’t move away, Junhui removed his scarf and gently wrapped it around the little kitty. He giggled upon hearing the soft purring sound, tucking his newest friend closer to his body.

Once it seemed as though the cat was asleep, he returned his attention to the diary.

Obviously, no matter how ridiculous it sounded, there was the _tiniest_ chance that Junhui was adopted, thus making his entire life a lie. Coming here already proved that his parents kept one hell of a secret from him, but he highly doubted that they’d lie about adopting him. For one thing, as every other person on this island seemed to remind him, Junhui looked very much like Hayun. So unless his parents somehow found a way to erase his memories of going to the plastic surgeon, Junhui was truly their biological son. Which still begged the question of why he couldn’t get this to work.

Unless...

Unless the spell literally required his blood to work. Biting his lip, Junhui picked at the cut on his finger, drawing a drop of blood. Holding that hand still, he flipped to the first page of the journal and pressed his finger down on the bottom corner of the page. The paper absorbed the drop of blood like ink, then before his baffled expression, the red ink travelled up and spread throughout the page. The black, unintelligible characters phased away, then reappeared as words. He blinked several times when the whole page was translated, jaw loose.

He flipped to the back. That one was changed, too, but the one after it hadn’t. Well, it looked like if he wanted to read the rest of this journal, he had to sacrifice a drop of blood for each sheet. One thing at a time, though. Without any food in his system as of yet, he wasn’t going to risk fainting by losing blood, however little the amount seemed at the moment. First, he was going to read the two pages already deciphered, then go from there.

 

 

 

 

> _The night I arrived, it was raining, naturally. I almost laughed at myself for forgetting. Almost. Aside from the weather, I’d also forgotten the ever constant chill down my spine and the overbearing weight over my chest wherever I went. Nothing about Serenity Port made people laugh._
> 
> _After meeting me at the harbor, Soonyoung took me back to his parents’ basement, where the walls didn’t have ears. Jihoon and Wonwoo were waiting for us there. As we sat among the cases and boxes stacked from floor to ceiling, I couldn’t help but stare at them in wonderment. Once upon a time, I had been the kid looking up to the three of them, all a few years older than me. Even though Chan and I had been in the same class, it was Soonyoung I was closer to, and consequently, his friends became my own. Now I looked old enough to be their mother. Had I not had the chance to escape the island, my life would have ended up like theirs—frozen, stalled, stuck._
> 
> _Back then, I’d been young and selfish, so desperate to run away. Once I broke free, I never turned back. To have been so silly to believe that the past wouldn’t catch up with me..._

\---

 

 

 

> _After the latest storm hit the East side of his castle, he called on certain capable workers to come and repair the damages. Wonwoo and Jihoon were among them. They discovered that something of great value was being transported out of the castle. Soonyoung and Mingyu followed the suspicious lead to the lighthouse. They rationalized that it was the Pact being stowed away there._
> 
> _As I understand, the lighthouse is now protected by a spell. Soonyoung drew it out for me, and I agree with their research—the building and the Pact are under the Adamentum spell._

\---

 

 

 

> _Thank goodness Mr. Shupe kept all our old books safe! After hours and hours of browsing through the large volumes, we found information identifying and describing the spell, as well as the consequences of an intruder breaking it. Nothing yet on how to neutralize it. Maybe if I can figure how exactly he cast it, it might give us a clue._
> 
>  

Closing the journal and drumming his fingertips on the cover, Junhui processed the information. The “he” she referred to must be Krius. The storm that apparently hit his castle catalyzed the group’s initiative. It would certainly explain why it took them more than thirty years to contact Hayun with a potential solution. Everything was stagnant until Krius moved the Pact out of his castle and into the lighthouse. With it stored out of Krius’ immediate reach, its accessibility became that much more likely. The only caveat was the spell protecting it, which was where Hayun fit in. Like she said, if she could figure out how Krius cast it, she could undo it.

And apparently, the bookshop keeper had kept her old magic books safe all these years. No wonder he had been willing to spare Junhui some time when the boy came into his shop. Junhui felt even more grateful that he met him instead of someone who could’ve turned him in to Krius.

The doorknob jiggled. The fear snapped Junhui out of his thought. He froze, eyes round and strained on the door. He shot upright, ready to bolt for the window. Startled, the cat fleeted out of his lap and across the floor to hide.

In the next second, Wonwoo filled the space between the door and its frame, allowing Junhui to release the breath he’d been holding. His limbs and fingertips still tingled from the rush of adrenaline, when Wonwoo entered the room and locked the door.

“You’re back.”

“Mm.” Wonwoo walked over to hand him one the sandwiches he carried.

“Thanks,” Junhui said, accepting the food and sinking back onto the mattress. As he unwrapped the wax paper, he was surprised to see the ingredients.

“What? Do you not like ham and cheese?”

Junhui glanced up to see that Wonwoo had hopped up to sit on top of the table, wrapping paper rustling as he pulled it back to reveal a similar sandwich.

“No, it’s fine,” Junhui answered, taking a bite and doing his best not to look like a starving animal. “I just expected fish, I guess, considering.”

Wonwoo scowled. “I don’t like fish.”

Brow arched, he said slowly, “But you live in a fishing town… and yet you don’t… Never mind.” _Well, no wonder he’s so cranky._ Teasing him about it didn’t seem like a good idea, though, so Junhui swallowed the remark with his next bite.

“Any luck?” Wonwoo wondered, gesturing toward the journal set on the stool.

His mouth full, Junhui could only shrug, showing him the first translated pages. Wonwoo set his sandwich aside and took the journal from the boy. The latter anticipated the next question, so as he swallowed, he lifted his finger up.

“It’s literally blood magic,” Junhui said, continuing eating. Although it was most likely due to hunger, this sandwich was the best tasting sandwich he had ever eaten.

Wonwoo nodded, scanning through the writing, but refrained from making any more comments so Junhui could eat in peace. Once he was done, Wonwoo offered him the other untouched half of his.

“That’s okay,” Junhui said. “I’m full.”

“You sure?” He smirked, and the other made a face. Junhui probably did end up looking like a wild boy who hadn’t seen food in weeks.

“Yeah.” Junhui balled up the wrapper and squeezed it into the smallest ball he could manage.

There was a soft _meow_ then, and Junhui glimpsed over just in time to see his new little friend reappear. What surprised him, though, was seeing the cat trot excitedly over to Wonwoo, requesting to be petted. Even more surprising was how the other boy sat on his haunches to stroke the gray fur, free hand reaching for a can of tuna from his pocket.

A small and tender smile tugged at the corners of his lips, his gaze losing all sharpness to regard the cat fondly as the latter devoured the food.

Junhui’s heart didn’t skip a beat.

It skipped several.

There never was any doubt or question that Wonwoo was handsome. But along with it came this intimidating aura, a cold demeanor that kept people away. Junhui always feared overstepping his bounds, constantly flustered and hesitant around him.

But to see him now, gently interacting with the cat, caring for it, Junhui couldn’t find any other adjective to use other than _cute_. He actually felt a little giddy from seeing this new and unexpected side to the usual stoic and curt Jeon Wonwoo.

“What?” the boy in question snapped.

_Whoops._ Guess Junhui didn’t keep the giggles quiet enough. Still, he couldn’t help grinning, realizing the retort didn’t carry much of a caustic undertone. It sounded less irritating and more embarrassed.

“Nothing,” Junhui shook his head. “It’s just nice to see you not on guard all the time.”

“Mm.”

He picked at the buttons on his jacket, holding back his laughter. “I didn’t know you were capable of being that gentle.”

Wonwoo rolled his eyes. “I’m not a heartless statue.”

A quiet moment passed as they both watched the cat finish its meal, licking at its paw to wash its face. He wondered if the reason for the cat’s friendly demeanor was because Wonwoo had been feeding it.

“You must like cats a lot,” Junhui commented.

“I suppose.”

“Did you name this one?”

He didn’t reply until their companion finished cleaning up and scurried off. “Happy.”

Smiling, Junhui hugged his knees and rested his cheek on top. “That’s cute.”

But Wonwoo snorted and shook his head, grin bitter and eyes returning to that marble quality once more. “I was going for irony.”

Deflating like a balloon, Junhui made a face.

“What’s that expression for?” There was definitely amusement in his tone.

The other shrugged. “I just think kitties should be named after cute things.”

“Sounds like you speak from experience.”

“I am!” Junhui replied, full of excitement at the thought of his cat. “HuiHui’s a maine coon, although she’s tiny, for her breed anyway.” He giggled, then sighed wistfully. “Ah, I wish my phone still worked. I’d have shown you her picture.”

Wonwoo listened, lips curving upward by a fraction as he stated, “You named her after you?”

Now that he brought it up, combined with Junhui’s earlier statement, it was rather embarrassing. He fidgeted, pulling on his sleeves. “Well, she’s my baby, so it makes sense, right?”

His companion didn’t reply with words, but he let out a short chuckle as he shook his head in amusement. The shadows and hazy lights from outside might have been playing tricks, but Wonwoo’s gaze seemed rather gentle as he gave Junhui a glance, before looking out the window. 

The pair stayed quiet and still for a few minutes, each to their own thoughts. Then the comfortable silence slowly moved to become incessant, the sort of silence where Junhui couldn’t bring himself to move for fear it might make a sound and disturb the other person. He glanced up at Wonwoo to gauge his mood, but his face was expressionlessly calm. Wherever his thoughts took him, he masked it well. Normally, Junhui didn’t mind silence; sometimes, he’d prefer it even. But there was nothing quite normal in Serenity Port, and it seemed that his threshold for restlessness was also affected. He sat there for a moment longer, playing with the corner of the diary.

Eventually, Junhui had to kill the oppressing stillness. He cleared his throat softly, drawing his partner’s attention. Wonwoo’s sharp gaze expected him to say something now.

“How come Krius asked workers to fix his castle when he has so much power?”

He shrugged, his voice monotonous. “Just because you _can_ do something doesn’t mean you _want_ to. He has more fun ordering people around; it makes him feel important.”

“I see,” Junhui nodded, chewing on his bottom lip. “So while you and Lee Jihoon worked there, you heard about him transporting something, and you told Soonyoung about it?”

“Yeah,” Wonwoo agreed, filling in some of the blanks. “Hoshi got Mingyu to help him reach the lighthouse. They arrived after Krius, but they saw him come out empty-handed. He sealed up the door and windows, then stuck to each opening a piece of paper with a spell drawn on it. Once everyone left, Soonyoung snuck up and copied down the design and tried to look around. Mingyu went home, and the rest of us met up at Mr. Shupe’s shop afterward to look through your family’s old spell books. That’s when Soonyoung contacted Hayun for help.”

“Why would Krius put it in the lighthouse of all places?” the boy wanted to know.

Wonwoo shrugged and shook his head. “Who knows? I’m just glad he did.”

“Have you seen the Pact? Like, physically?”

“Not since we all signed it.”

Furrowing his brows, he thought for a second. “I know this is gonna sound really dumb,” Junhui began, “But please bear with me. What’s the timeline of events?” Wonwoo stared at him blankly. “According to Google,” Junhui tried again, “Serenity Port was founded in the early 1810s.” Giving him a nod to go on, Wonwoo listened as he continued, “So when exactly did Krius appear?”

Wonwoo shifted his weight and leaned back against the desk, crossing his ankles. Then he blew out a breath, thinking back. It must be quite an incredible notion to have so many memories stored up throughout such a long life.

“Let’s see. I was born about three years after the town was built, and I’m twenty-four now, so a little less than thirty years, give or take. A few months after he took over, your grandmother, aunts, and uncles tried to detain him, but he got the upper hand. Hayun, having no other family relations after their deaths, came to live with the Kwons. She was able to protect them from Krius’ insane fits over time. Years later, your father and his parents came to town, and you know what happened after.”

_Dang._

So Wonwoo and Mom were both like two hundred years old. Junhui had realized that fact after Wonwoo told him the story and implied that everyone stopped aging, yet to hear him say that he was born in the 1810s juxtaposed with his current twenty-four year old physique threw the boy for a loop.

Now the events had some sort of order in his mind, but one detail stuck out. His eyes widened. “Hold on. It only took twenty-five/thirty years for this tiny town to burn through all its resources?”

Wonwoo shrugged, but the notion upset him more than he let the nonchalant gesture show. “It’s not a coincidence that Krius banked on our greed.”

“So technically speaking,” Junhui thought aloud, “if each and everyone agreed to let go of their property, does that mean the Pact would be broken?”

With a scoff and eye roll, he replied, “Good loophole, but no. These people will never part from their treasure.” Seeing the boy’s deflated expression, he softened his voice. “Don’t you remember the story?”

Junhui did remember. The townspeople weren’t even willing to trade their gold and silver for food and clothes. These people had problems even before Krius showed up.

A thought occurred to him. Wonwoo, from the beginning, had referred to the people in town as an entity separate from himself, while Junhui knew for sure that he signed the Pact, as well. Technically speaking, they were all the same, all to blame for the Pact’s creation. Presumably, Wonwoo also had treasure he didn’t want to give up, otherwise, he would have taken a boat to the mainland and traded his possession for food before Krius even showed up. So what gives?

As the thought hit him, Junhui glanced up at him. “What weren’t you willing to give up?”

A small smile tugged the corner of his mouth. “I knew you’d ask me that question sooner or later.”

“And...” he prompted.

Wonwoo shrugged. “And nothing. It’s not a question I’m inclined to answer.”

Surprised, Junhui raised his brows. “Why not?”

In reply, he shrugged once more.

“Alright,” Junhui conceded (for now), “So then what happened to the mayor? You said he tried to make people listen to reason.”

“Yeah, he didn’t sign the Pact.” He laughed once. “The man was smart enough to relinquish his power, then he stowed away the first chance he got. I assumed he and his family got to the mainland to live out their days.”

Well, that confirmed his theory. Wonwoo did have something he didn’t want to lose. The question remained: why wasn’t he willing to tell him? Was it too personal? Or something else entirely? Furthermore, what could it that he now no longer cared enough to keep? Whatever it was, it was worthy of his freedom two hundred years ago.

Suddenly, violent downpour pelted against the roof. The boys both glanced up reflexively, and Junhui got up from the mattress to take a peek. Through the high windows, he caught a glimpse of the streets. The rain drops fell so heavily that bubbles formed in the puddles. Pretty soon, the blurry mist that arose made it practically impossible to perceive any real shape or form.

Wonwoo approached from behind to observe the scene. Quietly, he noted, “That should deter anyone from venturing out to search for us.”

Agreeing with a nod, he turned away from the window. Only to realize how close they stood next to each other. His stomach did a loop-de-loop, and he cleared his throat. As subtly as he could, he took a step to the side.

“The rain just never seems to let up for long, does it? For once I'm glad.”

Wonwoo nodded in agreement.

They moved away from the windows, and Wonwoo hopped on top of the desk, while Junhui sat down on the old mattress again. His leg hit the corner of the journal, prompting his comment.

“Since it seems that magic books were at your disposition, I'm guessing none of them told you how to escape the island.”

“Well, you know, there's the ‘kill someone and sacrifice their soul for yours’ type of ritual, but that's a bit rash, even for me...”

The boy’s eyes widened at the suggestion of such a thing existing, jaw hanging loose.

But Wonwoo smirked. “I’m kidding.”

“Oh, that's good to know...” Junhui breathed out, forcing himself not to notice how his heart rate picked up from the teasing.

“So,” Wonwoo gestured toward the journal, “do you think you can do a few more pages tonight?”

He didn't really want to. His finger was throbbing from the abuse, and Junhui didn’t even want to touch it. However, he couldn't bring himself to say no when his partner expected so much from these pages. Besides, the curiosity was eating at his own self, too. So he shrugged. “I suppose so.”

The reluctant response ticked Wonwoo off, and his good mood evaporated. “Either do or don’t, Junhui. It's your blood. If you don’t want to do it now, say so. Don’t just do it because I told you to.”

Junhui evaded his angry gaze, shame resurfacing as the scolding reminded him of Jeonghan lecturing him last week. “I do want to,” Junhui insisted in a small voice. Then before Wonwoo could yell at him again, he picked at the dried blood to get a few more drops, wincing at the sting.

He read each entry aloud.

 

 

 

 

> _With our collected research, we determined that he draws his powers for the spell (among other things) from the island itself. He uses specific ‘pulse points’, where different energy currents meet and merge on the island. Because of their nature, those ‘pulse points’ tend to surge with power, and if one knows how, they can be harvested as raw power. Because they are so strong, they can be traced. What I need to do is figure out the wavelengths and chart them. With any luck, we’ll be able to locate the specific points._  

_\---_

 

 

 

> _There are 6 points in total (assuming my calculations are correct), which he masked deftly. He is more talented than I had given him credit for. For each point, he used a different method to extract the energy. I've only managed to decode one. I've not tested it out yet, for fear he might sense the change. Each point must be deactivated as close together as possible, time-wise, to avoid being caught._

\---

 

 

 

> _Hope at last. All 6 points have been charted, and I visited each location today. While he made it difficult by using different spells at each location, he also had to have a physical spot to localize the energy—in the forms of Stone Pillars._
> 
> _I considered simply destroying each with a sledgehammer (maybe Wonwoo or Jihoon can procure one for me). It would certainly help with alleviating the anger brewing under the surface. I've never destroyed magical artifacts, much less ones as powerful as these. What could be the consequences?_

_\---_

 

 

 

> _If I were as smart as I had hoped, I would've foreseen that there are no magic shops on the island. It was one thing to think, plan, and write out spells and potions. It was another to find and gather the necessary ingredients. The protection spell around the lighthouse is still untouchable; no book has been able to tell me what I need. I can only infer that if I can destroy the source of the magic (the Stone Pillars), then the lighthouse will more likely be penetrable. The gang is looking for a book that could tell me what ingredient(s) can be created from scratch and/or substituted. In the meantime, I'll scavenge the woods for the herbs and roots I need. Thank goodness Mr. Shupe kept our old supplies when he saved our b—_
> 
>  

Wonwoo jumped down and put a hand over the journal, interrupting him as Junhui finished the last sentence. Confused, he looked up at him, but Wonwoo didn't answer. He motioned for the boy to be quiet as he listened for something. His eyes widened after a second. Swiftly, he flicked the lamp off, plunging them in near complete darkness. The only source of light came from the small windows letting in the yellow glow of the streets. Wonwoo quietly stepped to the window that looked down onto the warehouse, and Junhui followed as silently as he could.

The building door was ajar, letting the rain scatter through the opening. They shared a worried look. Wonwoo had closed that door when he came back earlier. Logically, it could be anyone seeking shelter from the rain, but they couldn’t really afford to be optimistic at the moment. They listened for footsteps or movements, but the pelting rain on the tin roofs made it extremely difficult to tell.

A clatter on the other side of the room they stood in caught them off-guard, and Junhui startled with a silent gasp. Wonwoo put his arm out to keep Junhui in place as he approached the door cautiously.

Junhui’s heart pounded like drums, the blood racing making his hands jittery from the adrenaline. He held his breath, too afraid of causing a sound and alerting whoever might be on the other side of the wall.

As Wonwoo reached the knob and yanked it open, a loud screech downstairs made Junhui spin around.

The warehouse door was closed again. The person had just left.

Not hearing from Wonwoo, he turned back to see him bend down and pick something up.

He returned to the room, a perplexed expression on his face. He carried in a small box. Eyeing him, Wonwoo shook it lightly, then warily opened the lid.

A book.

The leather cover was so old and beat-up, the title had faded away. Wonwoo took it out of its container and leafed through it. He paused at a page, scanning the writing.

“This is the book Hayun had been looking for. Well, one like it, at any rate. It details ingredients that can be swapped for others, has compilations of recipes that create things from scratch. If we had this in the beginning, we wouldn’t have had to sneak into his castle for ingredients.”

“You snuck into his castle and stole from him?”

“We tried,” he dismissed the issue like it was no big deal. “Desperate times called for desperate measures. Hayun needed herbs to make her neutralizing potions and a bunch of other things.”

Junhui pointed to the journal. “For those... Stone Pillars she was studying?”

Nodding, he sighed and tried to explain further. “She found the location of all 6, and she noted that on each there was some kind of inscription. Usually, those inscriptions are the spells themselves, so if she were able to read what they say, she might have an idea of how to counter-act them. Unfortunately, there’s some sort of force field protecting the Pillars, so getting close is impossible.”

“So she needed a way to disturb it.”

“Right.”

“How was she able to chart and trace the wavelengths before that if she had no supplies?” Junhui wanted to know.

“She used whatever was left along with the old books. Apparently tracing spells are relatively easy to brew; it’s the charting that's tricky. She collected a variety of maps: stars, land, subterranean caves and tunnels, and who knows what else. Then she went from there. For the more complicated potions, she needed specific ingredients. That's why she was looking for this book.” He nodded toward the mysterious gift. “Since we couldn't find it—”

“You broke into the castle,” Junhui finished, and he nodded with a pained sigh. “So then what happened? Did her spells work in removing the force fields? If we followed her directions, could we read what it says on the Pillars?”

“I don't know. We took a few things from Krius’ vault, which Hayun kept. We got separated a short time after that, so whether she was able to do it or not, I don't know.” He still held the book, weighing it in his hand.

“Do you think...?” Junhui didn't want to get his hopes up that the mysterious delivery was done by his mom. Furthermore, why would she be hiding from them? Shaking his head from the notion, he changed the question. “Who else would know about the importance of this book?”

“Aside from Hayun, no one still alive.”

“What about Mingyu?”

Shaking his head, he dismissed the suggestion. “He doesn't know enough.”

“Then how do you explain this?”

“I can’t.”

“Alright, so let me see if I got this right.” Junhui inhaled, mussing up his hair. “About five years ago, a huge storm destroyed parts of his castle, so Krius made people come repair it for him. You and Jihoon were part of the construction team. While there, you overheard that he was moving something important out, which turns out to be the Pact, which Mingyu and Soonyoung saw him lock in the lighthouse with a protection spell—the Adamentum spell.

“So then Mom gets called back, and all of you read through her old books, at which point it was discovered that Krius’ magic comes from the island itself. He draws his power from those Stone Pillars. Mom’s plan was to deactivate them, shutting off his powers and freeing the island from his hold. After that, you guys would be able to steal and destroy the Pact... somehow.”

“Right.”

“However,” he continued, “there’s some sort of protective bubble surrounding the Pillars for _their_ protection. And that’s what Mom was trying to counteract with the more complicated potions, and why you broke in the castle.”

It was nice to finally get an idea of what went on, especially since Wonwoo was still super stingy with his explanations. Putting the events into words chronologically helped greatly.

“Basically.” Wonwoo scratched his chin.

Flipping through the pages, Junhui noted, “There are a few spells and potions in here, but without titles, I have no idea what they’re for.” He glanced up, meeting the other’s gaze. “So what do we do now?”

Wonwoo waved the book in the air, feigning jubilation. “I’ll give you 3 guesses.”

“Do _you_ know how to cast spells?” he asked with wide eyes.

“If I did, we wouldn’t have had to call Hayun back.” The sarcasm stung, and Junhui pouted. “Luckily, we have you.”

“Me? I don't know how to, either.”

“You can learn. Whoever sent this book thinks so,” he said, showing him the note that came with it addressed to Junhui.

He seriously didn't like where this was going. “Do you really expect a crash course in magic to work when a trained witch couldn’t get it done?” He waved his arms around frantically.

“I’m not expecting you to save the entire island,” Wonwoo clarified. “Whoever sent the book must have some idea of what’s going on, which means he or she might have a clue as to what happened to Hayun. All you need to do is cast a locator spell using something the person touched,” he gestured to the book again. When he saw the relief, then anxiety cross the boy’s face, he nudged him lightly. “It’s gonna be fine.”

Junhui took in a deep breath, then wondered, “Okay, let’s pretend that I am able to pull it off. Can’t I just use the same spell to find my mom? We have her stuff.”

Arching an incredulous brow, he retorted, “Do you really think she’d go into hiding without some kind of masking spell?”

Junhui shot him the stink eye for making him feel silly.

“What if this mysterious book sender also put up some kind of anti-locating spell around themselves?” he asked.

Wonwoo watched him pointedly. “Are you just looking for a reason not to try casting the spell?”

“No...” he bit his lip. “I just don’t want to waste time and effort for nothing.”

“It won't be for nothing. At the very least you'll be exposed to your family heritage.”

How silly of Junhui to have thought for years that his family heritage involved nothing more than recipes to award-winning egg tarts. Obviously, his maternal genealogy had other ideas when it came to recipes.

Sighing in defeat, he nodded glumly. “Okay, I suppose it’s worth giving it a shot.”

Completely disregarding his gloom and doom, Wonwoo reached over and picked up the journal laying next to Junhui and stacked it with the spell book. “Let’s give this a rest now. You'll probably need all ten fingers tomorrow.”

Internally, Junhui groaned. This was the exact situation Jeonghan was thinking about when the older warned him that someday (sooner than expected) someone will make a decision for him, and he wouldn’t particularly like it.

His inability to make his own decisions aside, though, Wonwoo had a point. This person, whoever he or she was, might know Hayun’s whereabouts. Just the fact that they tried to help them instead of bringing the guards to their door proved that they didn’t mean them any harm. It wouldn't hurt to acquire an ally. Now Junhui just had to figure out how to cast a magic spell. No big deal, right?

 

“This is refreshing,” Junhui commented as they walked up to the bookshop the next day.

Wonwoo opened the door and held it open for him. “What is?”

“Walking into a building instead of breaking or sneaking in.”

“I’ve had a key for every locked location we’ve been to so far,” he argued.

“Not Mingyu’s place.”

He heaved a sigh, but somehow, he didn’t sound as annoyed as Junhui thought he would be. “I told you—I have a copy, I just forgot it.”

“We still broke in,” Junhui added under his breath, which earned him a side-glare. He pretended not to see it.

Unlike the first day, Mr. Shupe wasn’t sitting behind his desk. Considering the unlocked front door, Junhui highly doubted the man was still asleep, although he should be. Wonwoo had roused them up at the crack of dawn to make the walk into town as safe as possible, since the only people awake at this time would be out at sea. Hence the expectation that most normal people would still be visiting Dreamland right now, including the shop owner.

Personally, Junhui wouldn’t mind too much if Mr. Shupe was still sleeping. It’d give him more time to mentally ready himself for what was to come. Just the thought of having to perform _magic_ when he knew nothing gave his stomach somersaults. He wasn’t sure if his positivity could outweigh the nerves this time around.

Wonwoo guided him toward the inner office, where they spotted Mr. Shupe walking through the opposite doorway holding a kettle. He poured the hot water into a French press coffee maker. The released aroma permeated the air, and Junhui inhaled deeply.

Seeing the pair, the older man paused, a look of slight surprise crossing his face.

“Junhui, I thought you left on that ferry yesterday.”

“He did,” Wonwoo said with conviction, making the boy look over at him as a knee-jerk reaction. He hardly had the time to compute the fact that his coming and going were monitored.

“If you say so,” Mr. Shupe allowed, resuming his coffee brewing. “But you might think about altering your appearance a little, my dear,” he addressed Junhui. “You're a little too colorful for our town.”

Self-consciously, Junhui glanced down at what he was wearing. The color of his clothes should be the least of anyone’s worries considering how he looked presently. Well, seeing as he hadn’t had the chance over the past two days, there was no better excuse for a wardrobe change.

He felt Wonwoo’s gaze on his face, but he chose to focus on the bookshelves lining the wall.

“We need to access Hayun’s books,” Wonwoo told Mr. Shupe as a matter of fact. “He’s going to cast a locator spell.”

Junhui puffed out his cheeks, but said nothing about the conviction in his voice that the attempt would be successful. Mr. Shupe eyed the boy, obviously skeptical. _Good_. At least someone else agreed with him.

“Is that so?” The older man took a sip of his coffee. “Am I to safely assume that you two are resuming the mission?”

“It never really ended,” Wonwoo said, and Mr. Shupe nodded thoughtfully.

“Very well.” He fished a small key from his pocket and headed for one of his bookshelves.

The pair watched as he removed a book, then inserted the key into a hidden lock. A small click sounded. Not waiting for Mr. Shupe's invitation, Wonwoo automatically approached. At the same time, the shelf swung open to reveal a secret room. Junhui stepped forward and peeked in.

Another library. Perhaps where the spell books are hidden.

Upon closer inspection, though, he noted the chemistry sets, complete with test tubes, pipettes, thermometers, a Bunsen burner, a couple small crucibles, stirring rods, and many other articles stacked neatly in a large box. He felt like he just stepped into his college chemistry labs, which made him feel slightly more comfortable. If he thought about this ordeal as his weekly experiment, he might make it through without messing up too badly.

“Looks like the colors have returned to your face,” Wonwoo said under his breath. Mr. Shupe had gone over to the far left, browsing through the large volumes for the correct one.

“Yeah,” Junhui agreed with a small smile. “Chemistry, I can deal with.”

“Here we go!” Mr. Shupe exclaimed, pulling out a book. He walked back toward the work bench, opening it to the right page. “There should be enough supplies for a spell here.”

Putting the book down for the young witch to read through, he turned and opened the large trunk under the table, showing Junhui all sorts of strange flasks and bottles, filled with different colored powders and liquids, together with what appeared to be rocks and roots. Whatever they carried, each container was labelled.

Moving his attention away from the ingredients, Junhui scanned through the instructions.

“Holy shoot,” he gasped, biting his knuckle. This was at least twice as long as the procedure for the most difficult experiment he’d had to suffer through in labs. Moreover, by the way his eyes just seemed to glaze over, and his brain to scramble the words, this was going to be ten times more challenging.

“I’ll be in my office if you need me,” Mr. Shupe announced, leaving the room.

“Thank you,” Junhui said halfheartedly. _Where am I even supposed to get started?_

He began the way he knew best: check the equipment and supplies.

Halfway through the inspection, Wonwoo cleared his throat. “You have a particular outfit you're partial to wearing?”

“What?” he stopped and faced him.

Wonwoo gestured toward the door. “I’m going back to the apartment for a bit. I can try to bring you a change of clothes.”

“You're not staying?” Panic was bleeding through, and it took all of his self-control not to reach out and grab at the red hoodie. “I can’t do this by myself.”

“Yes, you can. Just follow the instructions, and you'll figure it out,” he said calmly, having an unrealistic amount of trust in Junhui’s skills. “Besides, Mr. Shupe is here if you get stuck.”

Junhui didn’t want to seem like a petulant child, so he acquiesced glumly. “Okay. Just bring me back anything you deem appropriate.”

Sticking his tongue in his cheek, Wonwoo smirked. “What I deem appropriate,” he repeated. “Did you bring something _inappropriate_?”

The other rolled his eyes, although he was grateful that Wonwoo tried to lighten the mood. “You know what I mean,” he muttered with a small smile.

Wonwoo chuckled as he backed out. “Good luck!”

_Thanks. I’m gonna need it._

Left to his own devices, Junhui read through the instructions a few times to get a general idea of the procedure, then he inspected the labels on the jars for the ones he needed. _Alright. I can do this. Let’s go._

After working for almost an hour, he discovered that much like his previous experiments, the steps made much more sense as he went along.

He sliced; he ground; he poured; he pipetted; he boiled; he strained.

Eventually, he ended up with a 50ml beaker of a clear, dark purple liquid, and a few grams of blue crystal chips sitting in the crucible, air drying. The instructions said to add a couple chips at a time, stirring slowly until everything dissolved. The resulting solution should turn colorless. After that, he would have to pour it over the object the person had touched—the book, in this case. Once the solution evaporated, a yellow residue should be left behind. Collecting it, Junhui then needed to sprinkle it over a map. Wherever the person was, the powder would glow. The more detailed the map, the more precise the spell.

Thinking the last few steps were pretty straight forward, Junhui proceeded as directed. Approximately halfway through the blue chips, he wondered why Wonwoo had made such a big deal about it having to be Junhui performing this spell.

So far, nothing indicated that only a person with magical abilities could brew it—you just needed to pay attention and follow the steps to the letter. In fact, aside from the weird ingredients, it was nothing more than a very complicated series of chemical reactions. Once the initial trepidation melted away, and he focused, it was doable, albeit challenging. Certainly Wonwoo, with some exposure to magic, would be able to do it if a novice like Junhui could manage.

Mentally shrugging, he continued to add a couple more chips. The solution began to bubble. Confused, he glanced at the direction; it didn’t say anything about bubbles. There wasn't a heat source present. Seriously worried, a chill shot down his spine, and his heart began to race. _What did I do wrong?_ _This is just what I needed. I totally jinxed myself!_

The more he stared, the harder the liquid boiled. He set the beaker on the table and backed away cautiously, never leaving it out of sight. Now would probably be a good time to call for help. Unfortunately, before he could find his voice, the beaker began to shake. Then abruptly, it shattered. He yelped, ducking under the table.

“Junhui? What’s happened?” Mr. Shupe ran in. His shoes crushed some of the shards on the floor. “Junhui?” he called again.

Slowly, the boy crawled out. Turning toward the sound of the movement, Mr. Shupe saw him and let out a relieved sigh. “What happened? Are you all right?”

“I don’t know—” Junhui choked up, angry at himself, ashamed and scared of being reprimanded. He hated feeling so vulnerable, but he couldn’t stop the prickling behind his eyes. “I’m sorry, I just... I don’t know what happened. The beaker just exploded. I’m so sorry. I promise to clean everything up, and—I'm so sorry.”

Sighing again, the older shook his head. “It’s all right. You don’t have to apologize.” Junhui felt him studying his slumped posture, but he kept his eyes on the floor, counting the many tiny pieces of glass, rubbing at his eyes. “Why don’t you take a break?”

His head snapped up, and Junhui waved his arm around. “What about—”

“We can clean up in a moment. There’s more pressing matters, such as figuring out how to prevent something like this from happening again. Come on.”

Junhui did what he did best. He obeyed.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YUP. WonHui bonded over a kitty. AS IT SHOULD BE. Jun being surprised that a kitty was able to get Wonwoo all soft. Oh, sweet summer child, just you wait to see how sweet he can be to his favorite kitten (¬‿¬). I mean, the teasing has already begun hehehe
> 
> WonSoonHoonGyu breaking into Krius' castle for the spy mission AND gathering secret ingredients OooOooH *cue Boom Boom MV*
> 
> Mysterious stranger~ Is it the same person who got Jun's blood? 0.0
> 
> Fledgling Witch Junnie starting to learn magic! (つ^o^)つ━☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟWe'll see more of that next chapter. woot woot!
> 
> As always, thank you for reading! See you soon!  
> xoxoxo


	10. Practical Magic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jun successfully brews his first spell, and Wonwoo finally smiles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Did you watch Oh My Chn. version? Did you catch the wonhui? lol I refuse to believe that it wasn't done on purpose. Anyway, i wish i could be more funny in this intro, but i'm still thinking about Jun pulling out of CYZJ （◞‸◟）We honestly do not deserve him 
> 
> At any rate, to lift the mood a bit, this chapter has _some_ fluff and humor. WonHui bond a little more ლ（ˇᴗˇლ）
> 
> -

 

Mr. Shupe escorted Junhui out into his office and showed him to an armchair. As the boy sat down, he rolled out his desk chair to face him. Instead of taking a seat right away, though, he went back to the chemistry bench to retrieve the spell book.

“Now,” he began, reading through the procedure, “Which part did you manage to get to?”

“Umm,” Junhui cleared his throat hoping the lump there would go away. “I—I, uh, I actually got to the end. Or almost to the end,” he amended. “I was adding in the blue chips when it... exploded.” Still embarrassed, he laced his fingers together and stared at his lap.

Perplexed, Mr. Shupe glanced up at him, then checked his watch. “You got that far in no more than two hours?”

Now that he mentioned it, that did sound too fast. “Maybe I missed a step?”

He accepted the book from the older and read over the steps, recalling what he did. As far as he could tell, he’d followed the instructions to the letter. He chewed on his lip, pensive.

“For a novice to get through a spell in such a short time is commendable,” Mr. Shupe commented genuinely.

“But obviously I did something wrong,” Junhui reminded him.

“Mmm,” he thought for a moment. “Did you perhaps say something while working that could accidentally be misconstrued as an incantation?”

Shaking his head, Junhui answered, “No, I was completely silent.”

“Then what were you thinking about?”

His brows pulled together in confusion. “What I was thinking about?” he echoed. “What does that matter?”

Letting out a breath as if getting ready to deliver a lecture, Mr. Shupe shut the book and placed it on the coffee table next to them. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and knotted his fingers together. His knowing brown eyes settled on the boy’s. His patient and wise gaze had the effect of turning back time, leaving Junhui feeling like a child.

He spoke, his voice deep. “Magic is an organic being. It breathes and lives, much like a flame. Haven’t you ever wondered why some people can create miracles, while others use it to destroy?” Junhui nodded, while he paused to form the next words. “Magic itself is neither good nor evil—it simply exists, but often times, it gets mistaken for light or dark magic. In actuality, it ultimately revolves around intent, and how one chooses to use it. For someone like Krius, there is no doubt that his magic is as dark as can be; however, it’s only because _he_ wields it so.

“Magical folks have the ability to bend power to their will, that is what makes them—you—special, that’s what sets you apart from us regular folks.” He smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling.

Junhui tentatively returned the gesture, then asked, “How do you know so much about magic, Mr. Shupe?”

A long pause stretched out, during which his pleasant countenance morphed into a sober and wistful look. “After my wife died, I studied the arts to try to understand why someone with so much power would choose to harm people.”

The pieces clicked into place. His wife was among the many innocent souls Krius killed, explaining why he was wiling to help the group and participate in the coup d’état.

“I’m so sorry,” Junhui whispered.

He acknowledged the condolences with a silent nod and tight smile. Junhui followed the older’s line of sight to a picture frame on a low bookshelf. Mrs. Shupe had auburn hair coiffed in big curls that framed her face, and kind hazel eyes.

Drifting his gaze back to him, Junhui asked softly, “Would you like to talk about what happened?” With the town’s current situation, he couldn’t imagine that the man had any moral support to help him grieve. Sometimes, you just needed someone to listen.

“It was my fault,” Mr. Shupe admitted, continuing to stare at the frame. “When Krius first came to town, Caroline wanted to leave, but I wasn’t ready to let go. I had just amassed a small fortune in silver, and foolishly, I thought there was more to be found. Caroline tried to reason with me that what we had was enough, but I didn’t listen. So we stayed behind.” His chest rose and fell as he sighed.

“Of course,” he laughed bitterly, continuing, “there was not much left, certainly not enough to make it worth it. By then it was too late, like the rest of the town, we all signed away our lives to Krius. For a long time, he left us in peace,” he allowed, “I suppose it’s silly and naive to have the foolish notion that bad things only happen in the news, but wouldn’t knock on our door. One day, it did.”

Mr. Shupe cleared his throat and blinked away the tears brimming in his eyes.

“One day, Krius felt bored, I suppose, so he decided that people’s birthday would become their last day.”

“Wait,” Junhui blurted out before he could stop himself. “Out of nowhere, he decided that whoever had their birthday that day would drop dead?”

The silence answered the question quiet clearly.

His mind blanked. How could anyone do something like that? “He just kills indiscriminately?” The absurdity upset him beyond reason. It was one thing to make the townspeople lure in tourists for his meals, it was another to just inflict pain on them pointlessly. If he had done it as punishment, as messed up as it would be, at least it’d make some sense.

Taking in steady breaths and letting them out, Junhui gripped the locks of hair at the sides of his head.

Mr. Shupe replied calmly, “He draws pleasure in what he does. He enjoys abusing his power that way, and he knows that there’s nothing anyone can do about it.”

“But if he keeps killing people randomly like this,” Junhui pointed out, “then eventually, there won’t be anyone left for him to control. He may have the power to make the island seem like it’s moving through time to fool tourists, but you people are frozen. It’s not like the population can grow.”

Sounding completely defeated, Mr. Shupe inferred, “Then at that point he’ll simply move on to another town where people are desperate enough to make a deal with him. The cycle continues.”

Junhui pressed his hands over his face and groaned in frustration. When he straightened up, he saw that Mr. Shupe had brought back the book. He tapped lightly on the open pages.

“Now let’s get back to your problem,” he said.

With their discussion, the young witchling had almost forgotten the disaster he’d created in the other room. His stomach twisted uncomfortably.

“What were you thinking when you created this potion?” he asked.

“Uh,” Junhui thought back. “At first, nothing. I was too focused on not messing up. Toward the end, I was just... I wondered why Wonwoo couldn’t do it since it seemed so straight forward.” A shrug.

“In other words,” Mr. Shupe concluded, “you dismissed your own abilities.”

“I guess?” Junhui squeaked out sheepishly.

Heaving a sigh and shaking his head, he closed the book again. “Now that we’ve discussed the importance of intention, do you see your error?”

Maybe he was slow, but it took Junhui a moment before he realized that his own self-doubts were the cause. He literally sabotaged himself. Cringing, he chewed on his bottom lip.

Assessing that the boy made the connection, Mr. Shupe prompted, “You have to ask yourself what the purpose of this spell is.”

“To find the person who could help me find my mom,” he replied right away like a school kid in front of the teacher.

“Is that all you want? It’s your first spell, you have to make it clear in your mind, otherwise it’ll continue to fail.”

Junhui opened his mouth to speak, but then closed it again. Before Mr. Shupe had shared his personal story, Junhui was positive that that was all he wanted out of this magic experiment. Now he felt conflicted between wanting to do what was right, and understanding that he didn’t have the capability to do it.

“There is something else,” he confessed with a sigh. “I want to help free the island, but I also know that I physically can’t.”

“Because you believe you lack experience and power,” Mr. Shupe guessed, and Junhui nodded. “I can’t make the decision for you, but perhaps the person who sent you the spell book might offer some assistance. Whoever the person is, he or she is obviously not working with Krius, and it appears that they know at least something about magic.”

Kicking the thoughts around his head, Junhui wondered aloud, “So if they’re willing to help deactivate the Pillars, and Krius’ powers are shut off, would that mean that everyone can leave the island?”

“No, we would still be bound by the Pact. However, you would succeed in making Krius powerless, which is a great feat in itself!”

Tapping his finger over his lips, the younger mused, “Wonwoo made it clear that he doesn’t expect me to lift the curse or even go anywhere near the Pact. If shutting off Krius’ powers has no effect on the Pact, how does he plan on leaving?”

“By destroying the ‘treasure’ that binds him here,” Mr. Shupe explained. “If ‘it’ no longer exists, then the Pact has no value.”

That brought back the theory the two of them had discussed together last night. “Does that mean that if we destroyed everything—”

“You can’t. It doesn’t work that way,” Mr. Shupe interjected. “The same way the contract binds people to their ‘treasure’, it also protects their possession from outside force. Each person has to be willing to part with it voluntarily.”

“From a technical point of view, then,” Junhui reasoned, “If the Pillars are deactivated, Krius loses his powers, and the island is ‘free’, but for the people to leave, they have to be convinced to let go of their ‘treasures’.” The older man nodded. “And Wonwoo knows all this?”

This had to be the reason Wonwoo kept referring to the townspeople as _they_ instead of _us._ Whatever his ‘treasure’ was, he either already got rid of it, or he was willing to as soon as the Pillars got deactivated. Furthermore, it would explain why he seemed so sure that Junhui couldn’t do anything for these people. Unless they did it voluntarily, Junhui could only stand there and watch.

“He has the general idea,” Mr. Shupe responded. “When they used to have meetings here, your mother figured out the link between the Pillars and Krius’ powers. They all knew that was the first step, and they hoped that once the town no longer feared Krius, they would realize that their freedom was up to them.”

“I see.”

“Of course,” he continued, “Wonwoo has no idea how to cut off the power, so to speak. With Hayun missing, and his closest friends gone, he had no other choice than to ask you here.”

“By using Mom as bait,” Junhui stated as a matter of fact.

Mr. Shupe studied his passive expression. “Do you blame him?”

Junhui shook his head. “No, I know why he did it. I suppose I would, too, in his shoes.” Drawing patterns on his jeans idly, he added, “I just wish he told me that from the start.”

His older companion inhaled, ready to speak, but he cut him off. “But then again, Wonwoo didn’t exactly get what he wanted, either. He ended up with the offspring of a powerful witch, but her powers weren’t included.” Junhui forced a chuckle. “So I guess we’re even.”

“Junhui.” He looked up when the older called his name. “You have to start believing in your powers, otherwise you’re not going to be able to help anyone, including yourself.”

Reluctantly, the boy nodded, but still noted, “I might be able to whip up this locator spell if I concentrated, but going from that to disabling all six Stone Pillars doesn’t sound realistic at all.”

“I suspect that the mysterious book sender you’re seeking, if willing to help, would know how to execute the spells. Wonwoo mentioned your mother left behind instructions, right?”

“Yeah, in her journal.”

“And if you manage to find them, they might even have some information about Hayun,” he exclaimed hopefully. “Now the ball is in your court. You just have to concoct this locator spell!”

Junhui’s smile was tight, but Mr. Shupe attributed it to the queasiness over trying the potion again, so he gave the boy some more encouragement. He wasn’t wrong, but something else bothered Junhui. He kept it to himself as he took the instructions book and headed back in the lab.

If the book sender could help disable the Pillars, then chances were that Junhui would be looking for Hayun on his own afterward. Because once the Pillars are shut off, Wonwoo just had to make sure his ‘treasure’ no longer existed, and then he’ll be free to leave Amarut Island for good. His responsibility over keeping Junhui safe would no longer apply, since Krius would be powerless, at that point. If Junhui planned on staying to find Hayun, he’d be doing so on his own. 

Mr. Shupe was right about one thing. The ball was in Junhui’s court. If the locator spell succeeded, he had an equal chance of procuring more information about his mom’s whereabouts as losing Wonwoo’s help in continuing the search for her.

He set the book down on the work bench and grabbed the broom from the corner of the room. As he swept the floor, he wished he could untangle his discordant thoughts with the same ease as he cleaned debris and broken shards.

 

»»————- ✧ *: ･ﾟ ✧ ————-««

 

Out in the front part of the bookstore, Wonwoo navigated the shelves to stay out of view from the streets. Whether it be instinct or paranoia, he couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was watching him. Backed up in a corner, he swept the streets with his eyes through the glass panes, noting nothing of interest. It was still too early for the majority to be awake, and for the fishermen to come back from their catch.

He glanced back toward the hallway. As long as Junhui stayed hidden here, there should be no problem. Another careful survey of the streets showed no suspicious figure. He pulled the hood over his head and walked outside.

It started to drizzle, and that distracted him for a few minutes. As soon as he turned down the intersection, though, that odd feeling reappeared. He kept walking, but thanks to his hood he was able to inspect left and right without anyone around him noticing he was on to them. He kept his posture relaxed and walking pace consistent. It wasn’t the first time he’d had to dance around this sort of delicate situation. Of course, whoever tailing him had to be skilled; therefore, it came to no surprise that he heard no second pair of footsteps, nor saw any shadow darting back and forth. Good spies were invisible and silent.

Across the street from the alley, Wonwoo took a cursory look around, then kept walking. His apartment door was still shut, so at least he knew they didn’t blow up the place in search for him and Junhui. Moreover, no guards stood outside, at least that he could see. So far so good, he thought. Mr. Shupe hadn’t mentioned any raids while the pair were gone, but Wonwoo had to be sure.

Checking the time, he realized he had about ten minutes before Mingyu finished his shift and went who knew where. Wonwoo entered the bar through the back door. Unless the spy wanted to be caught, he’d have to stay on the streets, allowing his target a few minutes of reprieve.

Mingyu was wiping down the empty counter when he spotted his friend enter the building. He glanced toward a table in the corner, and Wonwoo stayed put by the stairs. He quickly finished his task, careful not to break any glass in the haste. Still, he kept his eyes on that particular table. From where Wonwoo stood, he could only make out three burly figures.

“Hey,” Mingyu said in a hushed tone, when he joined him in the back. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, fine.” Wonwoo nodded. “Guards or mercenaries?”

Mingyu threw a look over his shoulder toward the group. “Just guards.” He grabbed the trash bag, and the older followed him out to the dumpsters. He threw the bag in.

“Did anything happen after we left?” Wonwoo wanted to know.

“Nothing from the usual,” he answered. “Where’s Junhui, anyway?”

Wonwoo stared right at him. “Not here.”

Backing away and lifting his hands up, Mingyu dropped the subject. “Okay. Fair enough. Have you gone back to your place?”

“Not yet. I wanted to make sure there wasn’t a surprise party waiting for me first.”

Mingyu laughed once. “Well, if there is, they were sneaky as hell about it.” He composed himself as he continued. “What happened last night? It’s been a really long time since they sent out anyone to catch you, specifically.”

“Yeah, because it’s been a really long time since I killed one of theirs.”

“Shit!” he swore under his breath, raising his head heavenly. “How did you even outrun the second one? You shouldn’t even be outside at all!” Now he was panicking.

“I didn’t outrun the second one,” Wonwoo corrected his assumption. “Unless they moved his body, he’s still in Glida Heigh.”

Groaning, Mingyu closed his eyes momentarily. “Sometimes I think you have a death wish.” The older remained silent, expression flat. “Well, I’m glad to see you’re still alive. And wherever _he_ is, I assume he is, too?”

“Yeah. The kitten’s fine,” Wonwoo assured him.

Then before he could correct his slip of the tongue, Mingyu wiped away the previous expression of worry to wear a shit eating grin, cooing exaggeratedly. “D’awww! You already have pet-names for each other? That's  _adorable!_ What’s yours? Dementor-Woo?”

“Would you just shut up?”

But Mingyu merely laughed obnoxiously, ignoring the glare the older sent his way. Perhaps a good thing, in hindsight, as his slightly warm cheeks wouldn’t be spotted, still slightly embarrassed from the slip up.

“The point is, he’s fine,” Wonwoo emphasized sternly. “And I’d like to keep it that way. Now, are you sure you haven’t overheard any plan to watch my place or anything?”

Mingyu composed himself quickly and shook his head, sure of himself. “Like I said, if they did, they were real hush-hush about it this time. Even as drunks.”

“Alright, thanks.”

Mingyu waved it off, then went back inside before anyone could notice his absence, while Wonwoo took the long way back to his own building.

On the way, he stopped by various shops in hopes of losing the spy. Time had passed while he had been talking to Mingyu, and now more people filled the streets. Wonwoo blended in the crowds of morning commute, escaping the goon with reasonable ease.

He was feeling pretty good about it, until he came to his door. Heaving a sigh, he fished out his keys and approached. Upon hearing the jingle, Chan glimpsed over and stood up.

“Hi,” he grinned, although something about it unsettled the older. “Where have you been?”

“Out,” Wonwoo snapped. “What the hell are you doing sitting outside my door?” This was the exact sort of thing that would attract unwanted attention. And god knew Wonwoo had enough of it without the kid adding to it.

Fixing the ear flaps of the hat atop his head, Chan turned to the side, gazing out toward the fishing boats returning one by one. “I’ve been worried.”

“About what?”

He turned back to him and shrugged, adjusting the fringe of his hair. “I assumed you’ve been caught.”

Wonwoo arched a brow, feigning confusion. “Why would I be? I’m not doing anything illegal.”

“Then explain what the guards were doing here yesterday,” he shot back.

A chill crept down his spine, but he shook it off. He knew there was no possible way Krius wouldn’t send his men out after what he and Junhui did. Still, it didn’t explain how Chan knew about it, but neither Mingyu nor Mr. Shupe did.

“What were _you_ doing here yesterday?” Wonwoo wanted to know, dropping the nonchalance. That weird foreboding sensation nagged at him again.

Chan met his gaze. “I went for groceries, and I passed by, seeing them surrounding the place.”

“I see,” Wonwoo said, still watching him warily. “So they were here, but they didn’t go inside?”

“Not that I saw.”

Something was definitely off. Why order his men to gather here, just to have them leave moments later with the apartment intact? It couldn't have been a group of spies trying to gather intel, since no one was home. Undoubtedly, when the mercenaries failed to return and report to Krius, he sent his men out on a hunt for the two of them. In that case, it made even less sense for the guards to show up and not even attempt to catch their prey inside.

_Wait a second..._

“What time was this?” Wonwoo demanded.

Chan seemed surprised, blinking. “Uh, last night.”

“But I saw you last night,” he reminded him. “And that was already past nine o’clock.”

“R-right,” he stammered. “It was after you swung by.”

“Uh-huh,” Wonwoo motioned for him to continue.

The kid gulped, fidgeting. “You know Mrs. Jackie’s corner market is open until eleven. I just stopped by to get some milk.”

Staring right through him and the blatant lies, Wonwoo remarked, “That market is nowhere near here.” The blood drained from the kid’s cheeks, and an air of panic widened his eyes. Wonwoo took a step forward, glowering at him. Instinctively, Chan pulled away. _“What were you doing here last night?”_ he enunciated.

“Okay, fine!” Chan exclaimed, running a hand over his face for a second. “I was looking for you, happy?”

His jaw clenched. That was not the answer Wonwoo was hoping to get out of him.

“After you left, I knew you were in some kind of trouble as usual. I just wanted to come by and see if you were okay.”

“Well, now you’ve seen me,” he smiled wryly, picking the right key, ready to end this conversation.

As Wonwoo unlocked the door, Chan inquired, “What about Junhui? Is he okay?”

The annoyed sigh he heaved was all too real. Mingyu asking about Junhui, he understood. Mingyu talked and knew about him. What was Chan’s reason? And why the persistence? The kid couldn’t have seen him talk to Junhui at the harbor. Wonwoo had precisely waited until Chan drove away before he approached Junhui.

He reached inside the apartment and flipped the light switch. Seemingly, nothing was out of the ordinary. At least one good thing happened today.

“He’s not here,” Wonwoo told his companion now, pushing the door wider for him to see. “Unless you think I hid him in my closet or something.”

Leaning forward, Chan took a peek around the room. Not seeing anything—or rather, any _one_ —he returned his gaze to the older, expression skeptical. “Did you?”

“Did I hide him in my closet? No, I didn’t,” he responded monotonously. “What is it to you, anyway?”

The kid shrugged. “I just want to know whether he took the ferry to the mainland or not.”

“Well, harassing me with your questions isn’t going to give you an answer.”

“Are you sure about that?”

The sudden change of Chan's tone startled him, but Wonwoo recovered quickly. “Positive.”

Chan set his mouth in a firm line, clearly displeased.

Having had enough, Wonwoo stepped inside. Hearing the younger follow behind him, he spun around. “Where are you going?”

He blinked. “Inside? Didn’t you invite me in just now? So we can continue the discussion.”

“No,” Wonwoo affirmed. “There’s nothing left to talk about. If you want to add something, just spit it out.”

His foot tapped impatiently, and he took in a breath. Wonwoo expected him to keep hounding him about Junhui, but instead, Chan exhaled and shook his head.

“Never mind.”

Wonwoo didn’t let the surprise show when Chan turned on his heels and walked away. Shrugging mentally, he walked inside.

Right as he closed the door, the younger’s voice slipped in, “You better make sure the closet you’re hiding him in is secure.”

Wownoo slammed the door.

Fuming, he shrugged off his jacket and flung it together with his hat onto the sofa. Then he went through the apartment to look for any sign of disarray.

Had he found anything, it would actually put his mind at ease. At that point, it would be expected and logical: the guards invaded the place in hopes of figuring out where the pair hid. But Wonwoo couldn’t find anything out of place, and it unnerved him. The guards really didn't enter the apartment. Were they just waiting and expecting the two of them to return to ambush them outside? That didn’t sound like something Krius would do. He was much smarter than that.

Wonwoo returned to the living room and went to the kitchen counter. As he brewed a pot of coffee, his eyes fell on Junhui’s bags. _Shit_.

Examining the suitcase, he was relieved to see that the lock was still intact. Had they gone through the content, they would have clipped it. Next, he searched through the handbag. Luckily, his wallet wasn’t inside, just a pack of tissues, a couple pens, and some candy. As far as he could tell, the bags hadn't been touched.

Obviously, if Krius’ men were to decide to raid the place at some point, wherever Wonwoo hid Junhui’s personal effects, they would be able to find them, but it was better than to leave everything out in plain view. He gathered the bags and took them into his room. He tucked the smaller bag in his dresser, then managed to open the suitcase.

He stared down at the neatly folded shirts and jeans. Blues, yellows, greens, whites, reds, plaids, stripes. Mr. Shupe was right, Junhui was too colorful for this town. Unsure where to begin, Wonwoo separated the tops from the jeans, picking out the darkest colored articles. At the bottom of the suitcase laid another bag, which now that he took a closer inspection, took up almost half of the space. Curious, he pressed down on it. It sounded like plastic bags. He unzipped it.

Packets of jelly candy and sour plums spilled out, along with several ones of chili sauce.

Chuckling to himself despite the tense atmosphere, he shook his head. So Junhui really liked his snacks, huh?

For whatever reason, he found the thought of Junhui stuffing his luggage with equal parts clothes as snacks rather cute and endearing. The childish innocence of such a decision was definitely something he wasn't used to seeing around here.

Maybe Wonwoo was more tired than he thought; there was no other explanation for such triviality and ridiculousness. He shook his head to clear it and schooled his small smile into a neutral expression.

Before quickly zipping everything back up, he added a few of Junhui's shirts and pairs of jeans inside his gym bag. He briefly surveyed the candy. It'd make for a pleasant surprise; Junhui could probably use a good morale boost. That was part of his job, right? Keeping the witchling safe and happy, so he could perform at his best. Nothing less, nothing more.

Then before he could overthink it, he stuffed a handful of the colorful packets along with the clothes.  

Now that Junhui’s clothes were taken care of, Wonwoo considered a change of attire himself. It would definitely throw the spies for a loop.

 

»»————- ✧ *: ･ﾟ ✧ ————-««

 

Finding himself at the same step that created the explosion earlier, Junhui took steady breaths, reminding himself not to overthink it, to remember why he was doing this. He added the last chips and swirled the beaker slowly, watching the pieces dissolve little by little. A few more twirls of the wrist, and they disappeared completely, leaving behind a colorless solution.

_I did it!_

“It didn’t explode!” he cheered aloud, both in joy and surprise.

“Congratulations.”

Looking up from his work toward Wonwoo’s voice, Junhui grinned, puffing up his chest in pride, before the giggles took over.

When had Wonwoo come in, the witchling wasn’t sure, but now the former leaned against the doorframe, extending a silver travel mug toward him. On his shoulder hung the strap of his gym bag containing the spare set of clothes, Junhui assumed.

If it weren’t for the fact that Wonwoo had spoken, Junhui probably wouldn’t have recognized him without a double take. He still wore his black beanie, but his red hoodie was covered by a black jacket.

“Good job,” Wonwoo said, the corners of his mouth pulling upward. 

The sight, for some reason, led to a swarm of butterflies to take flight in his tummy. Weird. Junhui cleared his throat, glancing away.

“I’d hold off on the compliments for a while longer,” Junhui told him as he pulled the mystery book closer. “And—wait!” He put a hand out to stop his companion from approaching. Wonwoo halted mid-stride, brow arched questioningly. “Stay over there, too. Just to be safe. I’m not sure if the explosion is a delayed reaction this time.”

“This time?” he inquired.

“Yeah,” Junhui admitted, lowering his gaze. A nervous laugh slipped out as he scratched the back of his head. “I kind of blew up the first batch. It was a mess. And scary. On the positive, I didn't turn myself into anything weird.” He grinned sheepishly.

Wonwoo chuckled softly, but didn’t add any mocking comments, which Junhui appreciated very much. “Mistakes are natural. I’d be more shocked if you breezed through it without trouble.”

Junhui nodded. “Okay,” he breathed out, holding the beaker over the book cover. “Cross your fingers.” Slowly, he poured the liquid out. It sizzled over the leather, and he reflexively backed away, screwing his eyes shut.

Thankfully, it seemed like it worked. The sizzles progressively died out, and the solution left behind a crusty yellow residue. Junhui sighed out in relief. At that point, Wonwoo deemed it safe enough to get a closer look. Dropping the gym bag at his feet, he watched the witchling’s actions as Junhui grabbed the thin metal spatula and slowly scraped the yellow precipitate onto a piece of paper.

Holding his breath, Junhui bent his head to observe the yellow specs, grinding it into a finer powder with the spatula. The movements from the corner of his eye turned out to be Wonwoo pulling the map Junhui had laid aside closer. Carefully, the former gathered the powder within the paper, then sprinkled it all over the map.

They waited a few seconds, during which Junhui held his breath. _Please, let it work_ , he chanted silently. Little by little, one spot began to glow.

A bubbly laugh escaped his lips as he stared at it, an incredible sense of pride overpowering the awe. He could hardly believe he did it. _I cast my first spell!_

“Now I believe compliments are in order.” Wonwoo grinned so wide, his nose scrunched. If Junhui weren’t so distracted by the spell, he would have cooed at the sight, so much cuter than the usual scowl and flat expression his partner often wore.

“Thank you,” Junhui laughed again, feeling the warmth on his cheeks from the excitement and the praise. He pressed his hands over his face.

“Here.” Wonwoo offered him the coffee thermos, along with a few packs of jelly snacks.

“Oh!” Junhui’s eyes lit up. “My prize!” He giggled, sipping at the warm liquid and tearing the top of the package open. “Candy for breakfast!”

Wonwoo shook his head, that small smile still lingering and softening his features. He seemed satisfied by the boy’s enthusiasm as he pulled the map to him to get an idea of where the two would have to go next. While he did, Junhui took a large gulp of the coffee and munched on the jelly quietly.

“Oh, sorry!” His manners returned to his brain, and he made a sound in the back of his throat. When Wonwoo glanced up, Junhui pointed to the mug and candy. “Did you want some?”

Smirking, he shook his head. “It’s all yours.”

“Yay!” the boy muttered happily to himself. Although, by the way the other tried to bite back another amused grin, Junhui was pretty sure Wonwoo heard him.

Of course, Junhui hadn’t forgotten the fact that Wonwoo basically used Hayun’s disappearance to get the boy to help him. But Junhui had had time to mull it over, and he honestly didn’t hold it against him. Sure, it wasn’t very nice (or morally right), but as far as he was concerned, it was a decision made in desperation. As a last resort thing. 

Besides, Wonwoo did, more or less, tell him what he wanted from him after Junhui got here. From then on, Wonwoo had worked pretty hard at keeping him relatively safe. Without him, Junhui never would’ve learned so much about his mother’s side of the family, nor would he be alive, most likely.

Logically, their relationship had been rather symbiotic. Wonwoo kept him alive, provided him with answers his parents never gave him, and indirectly pushed him toward his magical abilities. In return, Junhui was helping him escape this prison. When it came time for the pair to part ways, they’d be on equal terms, and Junhui was okay with that. For all intents and purposes, they had a fair partnership going.

Before either of them got what they wanted, though, they had to find someone who knew how to shut off Krius’ powers. Junhui just had to take advantage of Wonwoo’s presence and protection for as long as he could, hoping that he’d discover what happened to Hayun before Wonwoo left the island for good. Everything will be okay. Right?

With all the excitement, Junhui hadn’t noticed Mr. Shupe stepping into the lab to join them. Currently, the older man was peering over the glowing map, examining Junhui’s work. While he did, Wonwoo crouched down and grabbed the gym bag, addressing the young witch.

“I picked out the darkest outfits,” he told him. “I’m gonna need a few minutes to figure out how we’re going to travel there unnoticed, so why don’t you go change in the meantime?”

“Oh.” Junhui accepted the bag’s strap. “Okay.” Looking around, he asked hesitantly, “Where exactly can I go to do that?”

Mr. Shupe, having heard them, answered without looking up. “Through my office, second door on the right. You’re welcome to use it.”

Smiling, he nodded. “Thank you.”

Once he found the bathroom, he locked himself inside and opened the duffle bag. More packets of candy. Smiling, Junhui reached for his clothes, somewhat giddy that Wonwoo would go to the trouble of bringing him the snacks.

By the time Junhui returned to the secret room, Mr. Shupe had left, and Wonwoo was leaning over the work bench, tapping his pen rhythmically on the surface. Not wanting to disturb his concentration, Junhui inched closer and peeked over his shoulder.

He had moved the map with the glowing powder to the side as reference. On the other map he currently studied, he had color coordinated pushpins and stuck them along what Junhui assumed to be different optional roads to take. By his elbow laid a note sheet with bulleted and crossed out items. Because of the angle of his body, Junhui couldn’t read what it said exactly, but it made sense for it to be a list of supplies.

So wrapped up in his own thoughts, Wonwoo still didn’t acknowledge the other’s presence, and Junhui would’ve probably gotten away with it if his wet hair hadn’t dripped.

Wonwoo’s eyes cut to the spot where the drops hit the table, and he shifted to see Junhui. He stared at the top of the boy’s head, causing the latter to self-consciously run his fingers through the wet locks.

“No blowdryer,” he explained sheepishly. “So,” he cleared his throat, nodding toward the table. “Wanna fill me in?”

Offhandedly, he commented, “Didn’t you look over my shoulder long enough to figure it out?”

His eyes widened at the revelation. And here Junhui thought he was being so sneaky. Then the embarrassment of being caught rushed to his face, and he covered it with both hands. Still, he pointed out, “You could’ve said something.”

Wonwoo shrugged, all smug. “This was more amusing.”

Junhui side-eyed him. “For you, maybe,” he muttered.

Not even bothering to deny it, he laughed. “You need to work on your stealth skills.”

Junhui puffed out his cheeks in an attempt not to stick his tongue out at his partner as he turned to the map and changed the subject. “So our mysterious helper lives in the woods?”

“Apparently.”

Junhui traced with his fingertips the roads marked by the red pushpins. “Shortest way?”

“Most noticeable way,” Wonwoo corrected him, emphasizing on several buildings by tapping his pen to them. “Town Hall, art museum, watch tower #3, inns and hotels. Tourists frequent these streets; consequently, so do the guards. High foot traffic. We’d be easily identified.”

“What about the green ones?” Those didn’t follow any particular road. They just seemed to pop up randomly.

“Places we can take refuge in if we have to outrun them: abandoned houses, storage units, empty neighborhoods.”

“Then we’re following along the yellow pins,” Junhui concluded, to which he nodded. _Wizard of Oz, much?_ “What are the blue pins for?”

Wonwoo pushed the sheet at him. “Stops we need to make.”

Scanning the list, Junhui was glad to see that he counted on stopping for food. Even though Junhui was fine now, he highly doubted he could survive on just coffee and jelly snacks for the duration of the trip. “Camping gears?” he read off the page. “How long exactly is it gonna take us to get there?”

“Probably a day, if we don’t run into complications along the way. Assuming the person can show us the way, we’d have to start traveling to each Pillar, too.”

“Hmm,” Junhui blew out a breath. “Best be prepared for long treks.”

“Exactly,” Wonwoo agreed, rolling up the maps and folding up his supply list.

 

Once they said goodbye to Mr. Shupe, Wonwoo and Junhui set off. At the door, the older man called after them and handed Junhui a black coat.

“Be careful. You never know who’s watching,” he cautioned.

“Thank you,” Junhui said earnestly. “For everything.”

Mr. Shupe cast Wonwoo a firm look, and the younger man nodded. The exchange ended before Junhui could determine what their silent message meant. Wonwoo pulled up his hood, and he followed suit, exiting the bookshop and stepping out into the light rain.

After trudging in the rain and mud for what felt like hours, Wonwoo finally made up his mind and entered a store. The previous three stores they had walked by either had too many people or not enough.

They didn’t spend much time inside, just enough for Wonwoo to raid the dried food aisle and pay. By the time they arrived at their second stop, the rain clouds thickened overhead. The mini-mart they walked into resembled the closest thing to a Walmart here and managed, by far, to gather the most people Junhui had seen since he set foot in town. Maybe it was the sudden rain, or maybe it was the only store that progressed to the twenty-first century.

Inside the door, while the pair shook the water from their coats as best as possible, Wonwoo leaned close and whispered, “Stay close to me and keep your face down. Don’t make eye contact with anyone.”

Junhui nodded, keeping the hood over his head for good measure.

Wonwoo was a man on a mission. Not letting anything or anyone distract him by advertising unnecessary things, he headed straight for the back where the sporting goods were stocked. As he grabbed sleeping bags and decided on a tent, Junhui noticed the umbrella rack.

He had picked a strong one when his partner appeared at his side.

“We don’t need umbrellas.”

“Yes, we do,” he argued in a hushed tone. “It’s starting to rain cats and dogs out there. Besides, it’s going to be a whole lot harder for them to tell us apart from every single other person in the streets holding black and blue umbrellas.”

Wonwoo sighed in exasperation. “It also puts a bigger target on our backs.”

Junhui opened his mouth to argue, but Wonwoo’s eyes widened, and he clapped his hand over the boy’s mouth.

Junhui stayed still, although his heart started to beat like wild drums watching him stare at something over his shoulder. Suddenly, Wonwoo yanked on his arm and pulled them behind a display of flashlights.

As discreetly as he could, Wonwoo cocked his head out of the aisle. Now that Junhui assessed his expression, it wasn’t one of fear. It appeared more like confusion and wariness.

When he glanced back, Junhui mouthed, “What’s happening?”

“Chan’s here,” he whispered, darting his eyes toward the front of the store again.

“Kwon Chan?” Junhui wanted to clarify. “I thought he was part of the good guys.”

“Yeah, I thought so, too.” His sharp gaze searched for the exit as he gave the short version. “Chan doesn’t believe that you went home yesterday, and since then, the kid’s been asking questions, way too interested in what I’ve been up to, showing up where he shouldn’t be.” Wonwoo shook his head as if to clear it. “I don’t know, there’s just something off about him lately.”

Junhui went over his interactions with the younger in his mind, remembering what Chan told him about Wonwoo. He reflected on the dichotomy of the boy’s actions when the latter showed up at Wonwoo’s apartment. What could be Chan be thinking?

With his back to the shelves, Junhui couldn’t see the boy's movements, nor did he dare to budge from his spot to look. Not that Junhui could really shift position considering how Wonwoo blocked him off. He sat there in anticipation, worrying that Chan will appear just around the corner and bust them. Instinctively, his hand clutched at Wonwoo’s sleeve to ground himself.

Luckily, after a while, Wonwoo relaxed, and Junhui took that as a sign of Chan’s exit. Wonwoo stood up, but gestured for the other boy to stay put and out of sight. He picked up the camping gear and turned to go. As he did, he glanced at the umbrella in Junhui’s hand. With a resigned sigh, he took it with him to the register.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my, that's one heck of a Freudian slip there, Wonwoo (¬‿¬) The kitten is out of the bag, as it were lol. THE KINK IS UNDERWAY \\(*0*)/ MG is all of us. Good job, PuppyGyu! (๑>ᴗ<๑)
> 
> Jun getting butterflies from Wonu's genuine smiles and praise. Jun is whipped (but also BIG MOOD, JUNNIE)
> 
> WonHui and the umbrellas lololol. You can't deny him anything, Wonwoo (Again, BIG MOOD). No point in trying XD Wonwoo is whipped...
> 
> The jellies. You have no idea how happy I am that it's a canon fact. They both see each other as jelly candy and I AM LIVING
> 
> Channie, though... Why you gotta be so suspicious??? (ó﹏ò｡)
> 
> Well! Looks like WonHui are going camping next chapter. You know what that means... TENT SHARING (¬‿¬)
> 
> As always, thank you for reading! See you next week!  
> xoxoxo


	11. En Route

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WonHui start their hiking trip, and Wonwoo opens up a little bit more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hellooooooo, I'm sorry I'm late, I had to go run errands （◞‸◟）
> 
> But WonHui IRL finally returned from war (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧ Hurray!!!
> 
> As for them in this chapter, they're a little more playful (even if Wonu still tries to be a grump), and bond some more. So hopefully you'll like it! ^_^
> 
> -

 

 

 

During the time Junhui waited for Wonwoo to pay and return, he faintly heard a child’s voice somewhere behind him. He sat still and willed himself to distinguish the cries from the chatter of the market. There was definitely a child, and he was on the verge of wailing, by the sounds of it.

Careful to not attract attention, Junhui got up and walked toward the cereal and bread aisles. He noticed the woman pushing a shopping cart with a little girl first, since they were right in his line of sight when he rounded the corner. The two year old toddler was getting antsy, restlessly wiggling in her seat, demanding some type of baked goods on display. Her behavior and potential to create a scene by throwing a tantrum took the mom’s entire focus. She dug into her purse, hoping to find something to appease the little girl.

A moan and a huff of air around his feet made Junhui look down. Hidden behind some boxes came another tiny, frustrated whimper. He stepped forward and finally saw the little boy. Junhui stood there for a second just staring at possibly the cutest little boy he’d ever seen. Round face with chubby cheeks, brown downy hair, bright eyes.

The child didn’t notice the older boy; he turned his head toward the woman, a pout forming. “Mama!” he cried. “Mama!”

Poor baby. Hardly three years old and already a big brother, having to share Mom with a baby sister. Junhui followed his gaze, even though he knew he’d see Mom too preoccupied to hear the little upset cries.

Crouching down to make himself less threatening and imposing, Junhui scooted closer to him. He spun around when he felt the other’s presence. His dark lashes were wet, proof that he had indeed started crying.

Junhui smiled. “Hi. What’s your name?”

He glanced toward his mom. His tiny little hands folded into each other nervously.

“You don’t have to tell me,” Junhui assured him with another smile. “Did you lose something in there?” Taking into account his position on the floor, Junhui gestured toward the stack of boxes.

Big, brown eyes watched him for a long second. He nodded slowly, rubbing his face with tiny fists. “M-my toy.”

It took everything in Junhui not to hug him to his chest. Instead, he nodded and gently guided the boy aside. On his knees, he peered through the small crack between the stack of boxes and the shelf. A red toy car sat just out of reach. Sitting back on his haunches, Junhui pushed the heavy obstacles out of the way, then retrieved the toy, dusting it off before handing it over the little owner.

His eyes lit up and a wide grin stretched across his face. His plump cheeks bunched up, and his eyes almost disappeared. “Thank you,” he whispered once he picked the car from the older’s hand.

Junhui giggled, reaching forward to wipe the tear tracks with his palm. “You’re welcome, baby.”

He laughed and waved the toy in the air as he turned to wobble down the aisle.

Junhui followed after him with his gaze, soft smile still lingering on his face. The little girl had been appeased by a sippy cup, and Mom began to push the cart forward, looking around for the boy. The latter reached up to grab her extended hand, and Junhui was pleased. He folded his arms over his knees and sighed happily.

“What are you doing?” The sudden question and its owner’s voice somewhere above his head violently shook Junhui out of the calming mood.

He hesitantly stared up. Upon meeting Wonwoo’s angry sharp gaze, he winced. _Well, crap._

“I told you to stay out of sight and not draw attention to yourself,” Wonwoo growled out.

Pulling himself to his feet, he tried to explain, “Right, but the little boy was crying. I couldn’t just not do anything.”

Wonwoo pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “You could, and you should have,” he retorted. “Even without your interference, his mother would have noticed and come for him. Helping a little kid shouldn’t trump your sense of self-preservation. You're supposed to stay invisible, or did you already forget?”

“Calm down! He doesn’t know who I am. Besides, who is he gonna tell, his invisible friend?” Junhui rolled his eyes with a laugh.

“Joowon! Stay with Mommy!”

The pair turned around to see the little boy stumble back toward Junhui, holding up another toy car, this one blue. Behind him, his mother pushed the cart forward to follow her son.

Wonwoo grabbed Junhui's arm and yanked him to the side, navigating quickly through the store. “The kid doesn’t know,” he hissed as they went, “But his parents might have an idea. If Krius even suspects that you’re here, we are screwed.” They stopped in the cleaning supply aisle, and he let go of the other’s sleeve. “You better hope that mom disregards your little act of kindness.”

“Okay, I’m sorry,” Junhui relented, even if he thought Wonwoo was totally overreacting.

A lot of things had happened since Junhui arrived in Serenity Port, but he didn’t forget the fact that Mingyu had no idea who he was until Wonwoo spelled it out for him. It wasn’t like the witchling’s face was plastered on WANTED posters around town. Nevertheless, he kept his thoughts to himself lest Wonwoo gave him another lecture on self-preservation. Guess he wasn’t so stingy with his words when it came to scolding Junhui.

Looking around them now, he failed to see any of the items Wonwoo was supposed to buy for the journey. The only thing he carried was his backpack.

“What happened to the stuff?” Junhui wondered.

No verbal response from him. Instead, he gestured for Junhui to follow him to the back door of the store, where he had stacked everything into a pile.

“Oh,” he said. “Do we have everything then?”

“Yeah.” Wonwoo handed him one sleeping bag. Then he swung the strap of his over one shoulder and grabbed the folded tent. If Junhui tried really hard, he could almost pretend they were just going camping.

Giving his partner a hand, Junhui opened the door and let him go out first. He expected them to start walking, so he retrieved the umbrella and opened it. However, Wonwoo only walked a few feet out the immediate exit.

“Are we waiting for the rain to let up?” he guessed, glancing at the roof they stood under.

The other shook his head, watching for something across the parking lot. “Mingyu.”

That was surprising. “He’s coming with us?”

“No, he’s just gonna take the camping gear out of town.” Reading the question floating around in his mind, Wonwoo added, “It’d be too conspicuous if he drove us there, as well. There’s a watch tower he’d have to drive by. If they do a random search, we’d be busted. If we walk, we can avoid it.”

“But if we walked with all this gear, we’d also be spotted,” Junhui finished, and he nodded.

“Very good. You’ve been paying attention.”

Junhui rolled his eyes at the obvious sarcasm.

As the rain continued to pour, the tin roof above their heads did very little to protect the pair from the pelting icy drops, especially with the wind picking up. Junhui shook out the umbrella and moved a few feet away to open it.

“Not such a bad idea now, is it?” he rubbed it in, just a little, grin teasing.

Turning to face him, Wonwoo gave him a flat look, then wordlessly moved further down the side of the store, where the roof leaked even more. _What a stubborn mule._

Well protected, Junhui contemplated letting him get soaked. But that thought quickly evaporated with his next breath. He wasn’t going to let him get sick just over something this silly. Hard to imagine that this guy was supposed to be over two centuries old. And people call  _Junhui_ childish. 

Sighing, Junhui walked over and raised the umbrella over his head. They were of the same height, so it shouldn’t have caused any issues. Unfortunately, it looked like they got the wrong size; this was an individual umbrella, not one made to be shared. At least by two people their size. Junhui could feel his shoulder getting progressively soaked through the layers. He could only hope his companion was spared.

At one point, Wonwoo silently reached over and grabbed his hand, tugging him closer to the center of the canopy. They stood so close to each other, Junhui could smell the faint scent of his cologne, washed down by the crispiness of the rain. His heart skipped a beat as he glanced over.

His gaze still locked on the streets, Wonwoo replied indifferently, “It makes no sense for you to shield me if you end up wet yourself.”

Junhui had a retort at the ready, something about self-preservation applying to umbrellas, too. Except that at the moment he opened his mouth, Wonwoo decided to adjust his grip on the handle, drawing the other boy’s attention to their hands. More specifically, his own laying underneath Wonwoo’s.

His heart did another flip.

He didn’t understand why neither made any effort to pull away; there really was no need for both of them to hold the umbrella. But as it were, his thoughts didn’t seem to work all that well with Wonwoo’s strong grip surrounding his hand. One thing for sure, he didn’t have to worry about the cold anymore. His flushed cheeks should keep him warm for a while.

Shortly after, an old, beat-up, gray sedan drove into the nearly empty parking lot. Wonwoo waited for the driver to park the car in front of them before advancing, Junhui right on his heels. Mingyu lowered the window and poked his head out.

“Hey,” he nodded at him, and Junhui waved back. “Glad to see you’re doing okay.”

With a shrug, he smiled faintly. “Just a little wet.”

“That’s Serenity Port’s charm point, I suppose,” he sighed, shifting his attention to his friend. “Where do you want to meet?”

“The old fallen tree about a mile North of the hiking trail,” Wonwoo answered, handing Junhui the umbrella so he could start loading their gear into the trunk. “Just make sure you weren’t followed and drop everything there. The tree should be hollow, unless some creature nested inside.”

“Okay, I’ll double check. Anything else?”

Wonwoo shook his head as he took the umbrella back. “Just be careful.”

With a nod, Mingyu rolled his window up and began to back out of the lot, offering a last wave. The pair watched as he merged into traffic before getting on their way.

The rain still poured, and the umbrella’s surface area couldn’t accommodate two people with room to spare. The situation led to personal space transgression, which Junhui supposed wasn’t too bad because when he whispered, he knew his partner could hear him clearly.

“Is it okay to talk or are we still supposed to be on our toes?”

Wonwoo kept his eyes forward, scanning the occasional passerby. “We should always be on our toes,” he responded, using the same diction. “But,” he conceded, “I guess we can afford a conversation.” Deliberately, he glanced over at him, “Or should I say inquisition?”

Junhui flinched. “Do my questions bother you? I can stop asking.”

“I highly doubt that. Nosy people seldom can.”

“Hey!” he glared at him.

Unthreatened by the pout, Wonwoo chuckled. “Being nosy is a sign of intelligence. Haven’t you ever heard that? Besides, it beats traveling with a dunce any day.”

A tentative smile tugged the corners of his lips, as he was pleasantly surprised by the comments. “So what’s the deal with Chan?” Junhui began. “As Soonyoung’s...” His voice died down.

They’d talked about him before, but it had been in relation to the mission. Now Junhui was skirting around personal territories, so he hesitated as he observed his partner. When he noted that Wonwoo’s expression remained calm, he continued, “As Soonyoung’s brother, I expected that Chan would be in the loop at least as much as Mingyu is.”

“Like I’ve told you before: Mingyu is pretty much apathetic to everything unrelated to him and his fiancé. As long as he lives comfortably, he’s happy. He has no life-long goals to work toward, not anymore at any rate. The fact that he’s helping us at all is because he owes me for stopping a drunk guard from cracking his skull open a few years ago. If it weren’t for our friendship and his honor code, he’d be no different from the majority of the population.

“Chan, on the other hand, had made it clear from the beginning that he never wanted part of it. His family quickly settled for this life, accepting it as a constant, actually frightened by any sort of change because of the possibility that it might cause exacerbations. Of course,” Wonwoo reflected, “that could be explained by their access to Hayun’s charms and spells, which protected them from Krius’ cruel jokes. While they heard about his unpredictable pranks, they never had to experience being the victims, so it didn’t occur to them to want to stop him, or to even get out from under his reign.”

“But then things _did_ fall apart,” Junhui noted.

“Right, but they didn’t see it as a reason to fight back, but rather as proof that everything should’ve been left well alone.”

Blowing out an incredulous breath, Junhui shook his head. “That is some heavy denial. Why couldn’t they see that Krius hurts people without provocation? Like what happened to Mrs. Shupe!” he groaned, and Wonwoo laughed, but it sounded sad, just like his voice as he went on.

“When things seem hopeless, sometimes denial is all they can afford in order to sleep at night.”

The two came to a crosswalk and stopped for the light. On the other side stood a couple of guards on duty, visually checking people as they went. Wonwoo and Junhui stopped talking and huddled closer under the umbrella, lowering their heads as much as possible and pulling on their hoods to cover their faces. They passed by the men without drawing too much attention to themselves, blending into the crowd. Junhui supposed the wardrobe change did make a significant difference.

Seeing their black armor and heavy boots, though, did make him wonder how tourists reacted to seeing such imposing figures circulating around this seemingly quiet and quaint town. Maybe they knew well enough to stay out of view of the potential food source. After all, tourists stood out like sore thumbs.

Out of earshot, Junhui resumed the conversation. “So, then, Soonyoung was the only one who didn’t want to sit back and wait?”

“Eventually, yes.”

For some feet, they walked in silence. The raindrops hitting the material overhead felt oddly calming.

Wonwoo’s quiet remorseful comment overpowered the rhythm. “At times I wish he had stayed in denial.”

Understanding, Junhui stared up at him. In a rare moment, Wonwoo actually looked vulnerable, his guilt so evident. If the circumstances were different and if they were friends, Junhui wouldn’t have hesitated to reach out and give him a tight hug. A comforting gesture.

“You can’t hold yourself responsible for what happened to him,” he said softly.

His expression hardened instantly. In his glare, he demanded, _how would you know?_

Unperturbed, Junhui replied softly, “I know you didn’t kill him. Did you ever hurt him on purpose? Pressured or made him do something he didn’t want to?”

Silence. Wonwoo didn’t even look at him.

Junhui pushed on. “I’m positive the answer is ‘no’ to both questions, which means that it was his own decision. Soonyoung wasn’t a dummy, he fully knew the risks.” _Just like Mom._ “He went through with it because he thought he could make a difference, that he could help defeat the monster.”

“Too bad none of them appreciates his sacrifice,” Wonwoo spit out, glaring at the few men and women sharing the streets with them.

Junhui refrained from speaking his thoughts aloud, but he did recall the stories Wonwoo told him about his friend’s passing. The group was arrested because the townspeople nearby ratted them out. That was how Wonwoo became disillusioned about saving the entire population.

His lack of response put an end to the conversation momentarily, and the pair continued the rest of the way in silence. Wonwoo led them through turns and shortcuts that bypassed streets and roads. They soon found themselves crossing through people's backyards, skirting along empty and forlorn dirt roads, escaping the rhythmic sounds of cars and boisterous chatter of the busy districts. Little by little, buildings and houses faded away, leaving the horizon bare.

They came to a surprisingly pleasant sense of tranquility as they walked in between green fields of grass and trees. Scanning the surrounding, Junhui imagined the way to Glida Heigh last night must have looked very similar to this scene. If only a few sun rays could filter through the thick dark clouds and shine on the plains, the scene would look breathtaking rather than desolate and lonely.

Eventually, the rain ceased, and they could hear their shoes squeaking trudging through the mud puddles, alternating with the crunching of the gravels. The road led to the woods. On either side, trees grew larger and their branch canopy thickened over their heads as they progressed. Raindrops that had collected on the black and gray branches dripped down one by one, imitating a real rain shower, only hitting their hoods much more softly. Everything smelled crisp and fresh, the petrichor mingling with the scent of the forest. A few birds chirped and sang, while little critters scurried from bush to bush.

At least an hour passed since they’d left town, and Junhui glanced over his shoulder. He could still see the hiking trail they followed, but aside from that, it seemed as if the trees had moved to block their path, forfeiting their decision to turn back or not.

Maybe it was because they were basically blocked off now, or perhaps Wonwoo had simply needed time to process what to say before he shared more of his past with his partner. Whatever the reason, Wonwoo picked up and resumed the earlier conversation.

“Soonyoung died because he was protecting me,” he revealed in a particularly clinical tone.

Junhui looked over at him. “What do you mean?” Reaching up, he brushed back the fringe of hair from his eyes, waiting for some clarification.

“We got separated that night. Hayun went with Jihoon, and I went with Soonyoung. He and I hid in an empty boathouse, with the guards right on our heels. As we caught our breaths, we heard them charging down the streets, interrogating every living soul who happened to be there. I supposed they must have taken volunteers, because the next thing I knew, the boathouse was opened and the blinding lights were switched on. They rushed the place, and we scrambled to climb aboard the closest ship, praying they wouldn't pick that one to search first. The last glimpse I caught was of the team composed of civilians as well as black-armored guards.

“We hid below decks, waiting, holding our breaths. From the noises and shouting, we could get an idea of their location and how far they were from us. But then suddenly, everything turned silent. We had no idea if it meant they had left, or if they were simply just waiting for us to come out of hiding.

“Steady footsteps thumped on decks, then the door was yanked open. The men who found us weren't part of the guards, and Soonyoung naively thought to appeal to their conscience. He told them what we were attempting, asking for help, giving them hope that they could escape this hell of a life.” He laughed wryly. “They stared at us and said, ‘Sorry, but letting you go means our deaths.’ That simple. They took us in.

“The next morning, they released me. I didn't understand what had happened until I found Soonyoung’s charm in my pocket. He stuffed it into my jacket that night. He was protecting me, and they killed him.”

Junhui stayed silent for a moment, taking it in. Eventually, he said softly, “You would've done the same thing for him.”

“If I weren’t there at all, he would still be alive. If I hadn’t strung Soonyoung and Jihoon along, they’d still be alive. Although I wasn't the one who slit his throat or shot Jihoon, I put them in danger. Any way you want to tell the tale, it was my fault.”

That vulnerability returned, but this time, it was paired with anguish and anger. The pieces of the puzzle fell easily into place.

“You’re not just escaping from a monster, you're running away from the memories, too, aren’t you?”

“Wouldn’t you?”

Unable to provide an appropriate response, Junhui settled on giving none.

The pair trudged on a couple more miles, at which point Junhui’s feet turned into the same consistency as the mud puddles he avoided. If the hike had been through straight planes, his stamina might have lasted longer, but considering the slopes through the obstacle course, he was reaching his limit. Not even his years of dance could have prepared him for this much cardio.

Obviously, he didn’t say anything to Wonwoo, lest he thought of the boy as an even bigger weakling. Sucking it up, he dragged himself up the hill, trailing behind Wonwoo.

Finally. _Finally!_ The huge, fallen tree came into view. If Junhui had any energy left, he would have jumped in joy. Wonwoo checked on either side of the trunk for the gear Mingyu dropped off, while the exhausted witchling leaned his hip against the side, scanning the pine trees surrounding them, amazed by their size.

“Here.”

He shifted to face Wonwoo and accept the backpack his partner had been carrying from the start of the mission, along with his sleeping bag. Wonwoo already had strapped on his share of the equipment. As Junhui swung the backpack over his shoulders, the other boy took out the map and a compass to guide them from here.

“Ready?” The flippant tone didn’t suggest a question. Moreover, he started walking right away, navigating around the trees, his eyes and nose buried in the map.

Well, Junhui decided, he hadn’t noticed that the boy still hadn’t followed. Just a couple minutes, then Junhui’ll catch up to him. He hopped on the log, relieving the weight off of his feet, and exhaled contently.

He watched after Wonwoo’s back as the latter went, distinctly slower than before. Understandable considering the unfamiliarity of the terrain. He craned his neck, altering right and left to see his partner beyond the shrubs and low branches. The farther he walked, the larger the distance between them, and the clearer it became that Junhui would have to sprint soon to get to him, otherwise he’d completely lose him from view. By the time Wonwoo traveled about fifty feet away, though, he finally noticed the boy’s absence and turned to look for him.

“Stay seated,” he gestured as he walked back toward him. Junhui climbed back on the log. “You should’ve told me you needed a break.” Standing in front of him, Wonwoo folded the map and shoved it in his coat pocket.

Junhui slumped down. The moss on the tree was moist, and he knew his jeans would get soaked by the time he got up, but he didn’t care. It was the nicest reprieve he’d been given in a long time.

“How long do you think it’s gonna take us to get there?” Junhui huffed, looking at him, then at the path beyond his shoulders.

“I’m not sure, but definitely not tonight.”

Junhui nodded glumly, disappointed in himself for slowing them down.

Wonwoo gave his companion a moment to his thoughts, and scrutinized the surrounding. As he did so, Junhui watched him. There was something mesmerizing about the intensity of his eyes. When he didn’t make eye contact with him, and when Junhui could observe them on his accord, they were as fascinating as the swirls and whirls on gemstones. Before now, he’d never found brown eyes to be anything interesting. But Wonwoo’s held something in them, something that no one else on the island possessed. It made it almost impossible to look away from.

On his second swept of the woods, Wonwoo paused at something behind the other boy. The corners of his mouth tugged down into a frown, his brows furrowing. His brilliant eyes flickered to him, and Junhui quickly looked away, afraid Wonwoo’d catch him staring at his face again. Luckily for him, whatever had disturbed Wonwoo still held his full attention.

“We better not stay here long,” he sighed, indicating the spot.

Junhui groaned internally at having to move so soon, but turned his head to see. The fatigue was promptly followed by a wave of nausea when he focused on the trees in particular. Tick marks, a clear sign that someone was keeping track of this area, which meant the owner of those tick marks could appear at any time.

_Wonderful._

The fear of running into the owner sufficed to give him the proper motivation and energy to get as far away as possible. He jumped down.

“Krius has his guards patrol the woods, too?”

Wonwoo shook his head as he retraced his footsteps. “No, he likes to keep them close to the West to protect the castle. Those trail marks were probably left by some lumberjack. Nevertheless, it’s best if we don’t run into him.”

Junhui agreed with a nod.

They hiked as far as possible for the following couple hours, before having to stop to make camp. Nightfall had descended gradually, and it wasn’t safe to wander in the dark, especially with the fog rolling in. Deviating from their path, they stumbled upon a peculiar rock formation. The larger of the boulders formed a low roof, surrounded by the other rocks. At first glance, it looked like a very shallow cave or fortress.

He and Wonwoo dropped off their baggage and cleaned the area roughly from pebbles and branches. Then Wonwoo let him roll out the sleeping bags, while the more seasoned hiker walked around picking up firewood. He returned a few minutes later and began to build the fire close to the edge of the rock, so it could be protected somewhat if it rained again. Junhui sat back to watch in fascination as he worked, first building a raised platform with rocks and thick branches, then shaving the wood to create kindling. As Wonwoo continued, Junhui wondered idly if he had been a Boy Scout of some sort when he was kid.

Satisfied with the finished product, he dug around his camping bag for a lighter. He cupped the flame as he lit the kindling. He watched and nursed the flame, blowing on it softly. Eventually, the flame licked the larger twigs. He waited for a minute before feeding it some more, maintaining the flames.

“Wow! That was impressive.” Junhui sighed contently, putting his hands out to feel the welcomed heat. “You must have been camping a lot.”

Snorting, Wonwoo shook his head, adding more branches slowly to feed the flames. “Not exactly. I didn't always live in a society where electricity is freely available. I'm barely younger than the dinosaurs.” He threw him a look, and Junhui laughed.

It might have been shadows, but he could have sworn Wonwoo smiled.

The latter dusted off his jeans from kneeling in the wet dirt and sat down. As if remembering something, he searched in his bag again. After some rustling, Junhui glanced over curiously. Wonwoo presented him with a paper bag. When the boy merely stared at him in confusion, he shook it and gestured for him to take it. Eyeing him, Junhui accepted the offering and peeked inside.

Trail mix, granola, protein bars, and jerky.

“I figured you’d be okay foregoing jelly snacks for the time being.”

When Junhui looked up, his gaze was a few degrees warmer. “Thanks,” he smiled, picking at random a bar and handed it over to him.

He pulled out a green wrapper granola bar, and they munched quietly. The crackling of the campfire echoed in his ears as Junhui chewed, thinking over the last couple days, worrying about the challenges of the ones that would follow.

After a lapse in comforting silence, he noticed that Wonwoo was picking at his palm. As Junhui looked on, his partner outstretched his left hand and winced. Dirt covered most of them, but Junhui could still see the shallow lacerations. Wonwoo reached into the bag and pulled out his water bottle. Unscrewing the cap, he poured some over the gashes, washing away most of the dirt stuck there.

His hand was now clean, but the cold latched on the wet skin. It turned red and raw. Just looking at it caused a shudder to run through Junhui.

Gritting his teeth, Wonwoo hissed slightly as he shook his hand reflexively. He tucked his freezing hand under his arm to warm it up before placing it in front of the fire. Seeing as they didn’t have any bandages available, Junhui undid the scarf around his neck.

“Here,” he extended it toward him.

Eyeing the cream-colored wool, he quirked a brow and smirked. “Not exactly my color.”

With an eye-roll, Junhui sighed. “It’s only temporary for your hand.” He gestured for him, and the injured boy reluctantly put his hand forward. As Junhui rolled the scarf around, he said, “My parents think it’s bad luck to give scarves and hankies, anyway.”

“What’s the consequence?” he asked, watching his temporary nurse.

“I’m not sure, but best not to tempt luck, right?” Finished with the bandaging, Junhui glanced up.

“Thanks.” He flexed his fingers to make sure it wasn’t wrapped too tightly. “You really believe in that sort of thing?”

The other shrugged, pulling his hood around his exposed neck. “It doesn’t hurt to be careful.”

Picking at the wool, Wonwoo nodded, although the agreement seemed to be directed at the statement rather than any superstition that Hayun and her husband believed in.

“So if you don’t mind,” Junhui commented, pointing to the scarf, “I’d like it back.”

Chuckling, he glanced at him. “Like I said: White isn’t my color.”

Junhui smiled despite himself.

The protein bars eaten, he balled the wrappers in his pocket and pulled his knees to his chest, circling his arms around them. He stared up at the tree line covering the cloudy sky. With the fog around the fire, the scene almost seemed to be distorted, yet somehow it looked beautiful. Tall conifers, now covered in dark shadows, swaying ever so slightly in the wind. Their silhouette sweeping against the hazing gray clouds as if searching for the dark blue sky underneath.

“It’s a shame that it’s so cloudy tonight,” he said softly, his eyes still directed upward. He sensed Wonwoo glance over at him, and he continued. “I bet you could see millions of bright stars, otherwise. Like spilled glitter over a dark piece of paper.”

Wonwoo only sighed, but made no audible comment. Junhui tore his eyes from the sky and fixed them on him. He was leaning back on his palms, legs stretched out in front of him.

“It’s not just tonight,” he said, not looking at the boy next to him. “There hasn’t been a single clear day or night since Krius settled here. I can’t even recall the last time I saw actual stars, the moon or the sun, for that matter, in the sky.”

“It’s been like this year round, for almost two hundred years,” Junhui gaped, and he nodded dejectedly. Chewing his lip, he rested his chin on his knees. Images of Wonwoo’s apartment filled his head. All those photos and articles taped on his walls, now in hindsight, made perfect sense.

“This is why you wanted to leave, isn’t it?” he asked quietly, meeting his gaze. “Even before all the chaos and tragedies. You wanted to see the rest of the world.”

A faint smile crossed his face, which quickly faded. “Yeah, I want to live for more than this... mundane existence. Something new to experience. Too bad life just has a funny way of screwing you over no matter what you wish.” He laughed flatly.

Junhui nodded in understanding silence, but he didn’t like the way Wonwoo sounded, nor the sight of the furrow between his brows. Now that Junhui had seen what one of his genuine smiles looked like, he decided that scowls didn’t suit him at all.

“You know, as strange as it sounds, this is my first night outdoors,” Junhui shared for no apparent reason, if only to dispel the heavy atmosphere.

Wonwoo, stoking the fire, turned over his shoulder. “You’ve never gone camping before?” he asked for clarification.

He shook his head. “I’ve always led a very safe and sheltered life. Plus, my parents prefer an evening indoors reading over a night out in town, so I guess they kind of rubbed off on me. Even when I was away at school, I kept the habit of never staying out later than ten; I don’t drink; the parties I attend often involved either work, class, or family. The college I attended was less than thirty miles from home, which makes my grandparents’ house the farthest place I’d gone to my entire life. Our annual trips to see them account for, essentially, all the summer excitement I got growing up.”

Wonwoo clapped his hands to dust off the dirt and scooted back to his seat. “So you never went anywhere else, huh? Haven’t you ever felt the eagerness of exploring and seeing more than your familiar backyard? Of discovering new and unknown places?”

“Of course I've thought about it, but it’s also terrifying,” Junhui admitted with a soft laugh. “New and unknown places make me anxious. Plus, from experience, I’ve had rotten luck when it comes to deciding things impulsively.”

He arched a brow. “Then responding to my letter absolutely tops your brightest decisions,” he commented sarcastically.

“Yeah, obviously.” Junhui rolled his eyes, but chuckled. “Your letter caused an aberration from normal, a sharp and pointy spike in the road that burst my bubble." He poked the empty air with a finger. "No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t patch it up. So,” he took in a shaky breath, “I had to accept reality. Especially after I found my mom’s old stuff.” He paused, then turned over to see his companion, asking, “Would you really leave Amarut Island forever?”

Wonwoo nodded, looking out into the distance. “Yeah. I want to see the rest of the world. I want to explore and experience all these places I’ve only been able to see photographed or read about.”

“Anywhere in particular?” Junhui wondered. “You have such an eclectic collection hanging on your walls.”

“Yes and no. Whenever I do allow myself such reveries, the locations change. At times I’d want someplace completely different from Serenity Port, like a large and warm city. Other times I’d wish for somewhere exotic and remote.” He shrugged, staring up at the foggy night. “I’d like to visit a place where it snows, or where the heat is almost unbearable. Somewhere with strange animals.”

“Sounds like Australia,” Junhui kid, and he laughed.

“Most of the time,” he continued, “I’d just settle for a place I could see the sun during the day and the stars at night. I want to be able to admire the moon, feel the silvery glow on my skin, and just…” He sighed, lifting his face toward the cloudy sky. “Just be able to gaze at it, feeling at peace.” Slowly, he settled his eyes on Junhui.

Smiling softly, the latter nodded. “Would that be your dream, then? To go anywhere?”

Meeting Junhui’s gaze, he nodded. “Yeah, anywhere else but here.”

Ever since Wonwoo recounted the events of the night he and Soonyoung were caught, Junhui had racked his brain with something to say to cheer him up a little. He knew it wouldn’t change the past, and it certainly won’t ease the blame Wonwoo imposed on himself, but Junhui figured that a piece of happiness, however tiny and ephemeral, was better than none.

Tentatively, he cleared his throat. “There’s not much I can do about the sun and stars, but for what it’s worth, I was the moon for a school performance.”

Wonwoo glanced at him, an inky eyebrow arched in what could be both amusement and puzzlement. “You were the moon? So did you just stand on stage wearing a round and painted piece of cardboard?”

“Noooo,” he elongated the syllable and made a show of huffing in indignation, which prompted a soft chuckle from his partner. He counted that as a success. “I haven’t had to do that since kindergarten, when I played a Christmas tree and a carrot.”

Now the confusion was clear. “You were both roles in the same play? What kind of performance was that? Santa’s garden?”

“That’s not important,” Junhui insisted. “And to be quite honest, I guess I wasn’t actually the moon, but it's close enough. Our group danced to a song that payed respect to the moon goddess, and in the end, we received her blessings. So you know,” he shrugged and giggled, “Maybe if you’re _really_ nice to me, I could share some of that.”

Wonwoo studied him for a couple seconds, not quite able to fight the smile that tugged at the corner of his lips. Eventually, he smirked. “Are you saying you’ll be my moonlight?”

The teasing lilt of his voice, the reflection of the fire sparkling in the depth of his eyes, the slight inclination of his head toward his speechless companion.

Heat rushed to Junhui’s cheeks, and he sucked in a breath, pulling his legs closer to his chest to help chase away the butterflies wrecking havoc in his tummy. This was definitely not how he had envisioned the conversation to go in his head. To be fair, he hadn’t known that Wonwoo was capable of making him flustered over a simple joke.

“N-not if you make fun of me,” he stammered, sticking his bottom lip out.

Instead of replying, Wonwoo shook his head and laughed softly, turning his attention to the fire. Junhui was glad to note, though, that a gentle smile lingered over his expression, one that lacked the usual cold bitterness. The heat in Junhui’s cheeks simmered down to a pleasant glow of contentment. He stole a couple more glances, before he, too, focused on the bright fire and crackling logs.

The orange flames burned the twigs slowly, and the campers found themselves enthralled in the movement of the fire as it danced with the wisp of wind. After a moment, Wonwoo spoke.

“I understand not drinking and staying in rather than partying. I even get your anxiety over going to unknown places, but your parents never took you camping or on road trips when you were little?”

Junhui shook his head. “No, not really. What a waste, huh?” he kid, and the other chuckled. “Our lives should’ve been switched,” he commented, somewhat meaning it.

The comment made Wonwoo laugh, but the lightness previously present no longer accompanied his reply, “You wouldn’t have survived here.”

And then just like that, everything crashed back to reality. They weren’t two friends enjoying a nice (albeit cold and wet) camping trip, sharing stories and laughter around the fire. They were two people on a mission, sharing life supplies and skills, seeking help in the hopes of finding a friend and mother, running and hiding from a monster, dreaming of the day they can all leave this place behind.

He and Wonwoo folded themselves back into their respective heads, locking away that friendly conversation to make room for the uncertainty and worry that the trip demanded of them.

 

»»————- ✧ *: ･ﾟ ✧ ————-««

 

The stillness of the forest immediately vanished the moment the boys ventured off of the hiking trail in search of Mathias Kerr’s cottage. She felt a peculiar sense of pride knowing that Junhui had correctly infused the locator spell to guide them to the old wizard’s home, exactly the way she had predicted when she dropped off the crusty spell book at the warehouse. It also helped that Junhui listened to Wonwoo's prodding.

In the midst of gathering roots and mushrooms, she changed the direction of the wind so it masked her young heroes’ scents from Krius’ hunters. She knew that wouldn’t hold them off for long, but her potion was almost ready. One spoonful of moss, these roots and mushrooms, and she was ready to cook.

Returning to her hut, she got to work. When all the ingredients were mixed, she lowered the heat and retrieved the nail that pricked Junhui’s finger. Splitting the drops of blood from the metal spike, she added the drops to the orange brew. Once cooled, she strained the crystals from the solution and put them in her mortar. She crushed every single piece into a fine powder, then collected it.

Now standing by the fallen hollow tree, she sprinkled the orange powder around her. Afterward, she dusted her hands and called forth a gust of wind to carry as many particles as possible to cover the woods.

As long as Junhui and Wonwoo stayed together, and the latter had his protective charm with him, this spell should keep them both safe by disrupting the hunters’ ability to pick up their trail for some time. Hopefully, it will be enough to allow Junhui to learn as much as he can from Kerr.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jun with kids is such a pure and wholesome thing??? I know it's from his love for his baby brother, but seeing him with kids just makes me crave parents!WonHui, and then I burst into tiny little pieces of feels. [Here's](https://twitter.com/menjunfei/status/1028512090254802944) the clip of him playing with kids on CYZJ (つ﹏⊂)
> 
> THE UMBRELLA LOL (≧▽≦) And in another episode of Jeon Wonwoo makes up lame excuses when it's about WonHui... (I have been saying that phrase a lot within the past 24hrs...) 
> 
> Soonyoungggggg ˚‧º·(˚ ˃̣̣̥⌓˂̣̣̥ )‧º·˚ Too good for this world, too precious. I'm so sorry little hamster. No one deserves you. Screw being nice and rescuing the people of Serenity Port. Just grab GyuHao and LEAVE (and yes, GyuHao are engaged)
> 
> On a brighter note (hehe), Wonu's love for the moon has been revealed lol, and Jun volunteered to be his moonlight (heavy imagery? you betcha!). New petname alert? (¬‿¬) Maybe... Oh, and yes. Jun's referring to Lilili Yabbay. Let's just pretend he has clones of SoonHaoChan at his school XD
> 
> And we have yet another look at that mysterious stranger~ *eye emojis* Let's hope she's not leading them astray... 
> 
> So not much happened this chapter, sorry... I promise action returns next time, when they meet with this "Mathias Kerr" dude. Hopefully he's a good guy. Welp!
> 
> As always, thank you very much for reading! Have a wonderful week! ^_^  
> xoxoxo


	12. Let It Burn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WonHui encounter a cranky wizard, and Jun is issued a test.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The fire is supposed to be a metaphor for their love... lol
> 
> -

 

 

“Are you sure we didn't get lost or something?”

Wonwoo lowered the map to glare at him. Junhui put his hands up, surrendering, and circled around to look over the ledge.

There was a sizable river coursing through the forest below, but no signs of human life that he could see. The view, though, took his breath away. Very far on the horizon, a line of snowcapped mountains poked through the layer of white fog and angry, gray clouds. Then covering the distance from there to here sprouted evergreens, tall and vigorous, their vibrant green coats such a contrast to the forlorn sky above. Maybe it was the altitude, but he could actually see the fog swirl fluidly through the treetops.

As Junhui stared, a hawk screeched. He took a moment to focus on the majestic animal perched on a branch. A moment later, he looked back toward the river and smiled when a deer and her fawn bent their necks to sip on the fresh water. The beauty and magnificence of the wilderness was truly incredible. To think he’d missed out on all of this because he’d never dared venturing far from home.

Inhaling deeply the crisp and cold air, Junhui pulled himself away from the scene, ready to follow Wonwoo.

His stomach dropped as he scanned the empty top of the cliff; his heart lurched out of his chest when he couldn’t spot Wonwoo anywhere. He hitched his backpack higher and jogged toward the trees the pair had emerged from mere moments earlier. 

Paper rustling and frustrated movements by the corner of his eye made him spin around. Junhui sighed in relief when he saw his partner, still gripping the map, trying to make sense of the directions. Junhui approached, putting a hand over his heart to help slow its beats down now that he realized Wonwoo didn’t ditch him.  _Calm down, Jun. He's here. You're okay._

So focused on his task, Wonwoo hadn’t even noticed the boy’s mini-panic attack. Knowing better than to interrupt him again, Junhui sank down on the tree stump nearby, keeping him in sight this time. It was a good reprieve, enough time to get his body to stop thrumming from the adrenaline rush.

After they had woken up this morning, they’d traveled for hours, following the map, stopping for quick breaks here and there. Eventually, they hiked uphill, gaining altitude to find themselves on this cliff edge. They were still surrounded by trees, but significantly less than the woods below. It would make sense for their potential ally to take residence on this little clearing. Unfortunately, there was nothing here aside from wild shrubs and little animals. Not even traces of past human habitation. Once again, Junhui considered the possibility that they had taken a wrong turn somewhere.

“This makes no sense,” Wonwoo grumbled, walking back toward him.

Sighing, Junhui sheepishly looked up at him. “It would if I messed up the spell,” he said, wringing his hands and pulling on the sleeves.

His brows creased as Wonwoo frowned, and Junhui flinched. His partner neither agreed nor denied the statement, and that made Junhui uneasy. Nothing brought forward the awareness of his shortcomings quite like the knowledge that because of him, time and effort had been wasted. Bowing his head, Junhui pushed his hands through his hair, trying to swallow the tightness in his throat carried by waves of failure.

“Turn around slowly, what do you see?”

At his request, Junhui looked over his shoulder. Among the rocks and pale grass, the head of a little critter poked out of a hole in the ground. It sniffed around, not exactly committing to coming out, but unwilling to retire to its subterranean home, either. A few feet away, Junhui noted several other holes similar to this one.

Not that the little critter wasn’t cute, but unless Wonwoo had completely lost it and suggested that their mysterious book sender was some sort of marmot, Junhui had no idea why he would call his attention to it.

Junhui glanced up at him with a questioning stare. “Um, it's very cute, but what does it have to do with us being lost?”

Rolling his eyes, Wonwoo sighed. “Not the rodent, the grass.”

He took a second look, now noticing the slight difference in shades. Among the pale and short blades, one part of the clearing appeared more lush. Its vegetation greener, taller, stronger. Unless someone really searched for it and paid attention to the minute detail, it would easily be overlooked by the average hiker.

Cautiously, Wonwoo made his way to the invisible wall. He raised his hand to about eye-level and searched for something. When he did, his hand smoothed out and seemed to be resting on an actual invisible wall.

As Junhui pushed himself to his feet, Wonwoo remarked, “I must be an idiot for not realizing it sooner. We’re at the right place; they just put up a protection and cloaking spell.”

Standing by his side, Junhui stared right through the open field, unable to wrap his mind around something as incredible as a cloaking spell. Carefully, he tapped his foot against the indiscernible barrier where the grass drastically changed colors. His shoe bouncedas if he had kicked the edge of one of those inflatable kiddie pools.

“This is amazing," he breathed out, full of awe, still trying to peer through the barrier to see what it concealed. "So how are we getting inside?” he asked, glancing over at the other boy.

“We’re not,” Wonwoo answered simply, backing away and gesturing for him to do the same. “It’s designed to keep outsiders away. He or she has to come out first.”

Blowing a stray strand of hair out of his face, Junhui shoved his hands into his pockets and trotted after him. “Any idea how to persuade them to? Should we shout? I can shout.”

Wonwoo didn’t reply right away, but he did snort a laugh at Junhui's enthusiastic suggestion. "Don't worry. If my plan works, you won't have to exert yourself.” He busied himself with gauging the approximate location of the hideout in relation to the rest of the clearing. Then he glimpsed at the woods, sweeping his gaze toward the ledge and what laid below. When he turned to face his partner, his sharp eyes flashed with mischief, a half smile tugging on his lips.

Junhui was very worried.

 

“You _do_ realize that this is extremely dangerous, right?” Junhui wanted him to know, piling twigs and branches on the ground. “I mean, forget causing forest fires—it’s too cold and humid for that—I’m talking about Krius’ men noticing the giant column of smoke and running right at us.”

Wonwoo dumped bigger logs next to him and knelt down to help set up. “It won’t be any bigger than the ones we’ve built before. Moreover, the wind is blowing East, so even if the smoke makes it over the trees, they won’t see a column of it.” He opened the front pocket of the backpack and pulled out the lighter. “However, it’ll be enough for our hidden friend to panic and come right out.”

The fire leapt to life, gaining momentum. They backed away and waited for it to build brighter, bigger. The black smoke curled and took flight. Junhui followed it with his eyes, somewhat relieved that Wonwoo had been right. The fire wasn’t big enough to create a lasting impression. Once it reached the thick branches, and the wind swooped down, the smoke dispersed tremendously. The pair didn’t have to wait very long after that.

Suddenly, a little cottage appeared in the middle of the clearing, right where they had estimated it to be. Junhui didn’t even have time to compute the amazement. Within the next second, the house’s crooked wooden door creaked open, and an old man in nondescript tan colored clothes ran out, screaming. Junhui jumped, backing up reflexively, hands grabbing onto Wonwoo’s jacket to tug him along, away from the perceived danger.

The top of the man’s head was bald with patches of gray hair around the sides. His bushy eyebrows furrowed over black eyes as he glared at them.

“What the hell are you two doing? Douse that fire immediately!” he yelled, raising his arms over his head.

He was a tall man, height bypassing that of the two hikers’ even. Guessing his age, Junhui would say nearing sixty, but he had the energy of a man half his age. The hair he lacked on his head, he compensated with an impressive beard. Whatever energy he had, he turned it all into fury at the moment.

“We didn’t know how to get you to remove the protective shield,” Junhui explained quickly. “Mister...?”

“Name's Mathias. What for?” he snarled, pouring his terrifying glare at the boy.

Fighting the urge to cover his eyes and hide behind Wonwoo, Junhui replied, “We wanted to talk to you, sir.”

“Isn’t that just wonderful!” Junhui started at his booming voice, blinking excessively. “I don’t want to talk to anyone, much less to two little twerps.” He pointed at the offending fire. “Now put that out and leave!” Grumbling, he spun on his heels, expecting them to vacate his yard.

If he left and locked himself up, they’d never get him out again. “No, wait! We need your help!” Junhui called after him.

Not turning around, he shouted, “This isn’t a charity! If you’re here to ask about food or shelter, there is none to give. Go away!”

“No, that’s not it! Just—”

Before Junhui could get the rest of the sentence out, Mathias shot his arm out. Baffled, Junhui gasped as a bucket from his yard flew across the clearing and dumped its content over the flames, extinguishing the fire in an instant. The empty bucket rolled away, its handle clinging against the metal body.

His pulse echoed in his ears, a result of the shock raising his blood pressure. Junhui stared at the tiny wisps of white smoke, trying with difficulty to compute the events that led to its appearance. It was one thing to see that sort of thing happening on a TV show, it was another to see it right in front of your eyes. If it weren't for the fact that his fingers could still curl into Wonwoo's jacket, he'd think he was dreaming.

Proud of himself, Mathias continued to walk away. Junhui’s mouth hung open, unable to find words to stop him. Thankfully, Wonwoo came to the rescue, much calmer than his partner was. He gave Junhui's hand a small pat, either to assure him or to tell him to ease up on the pressure. 

“We have Krius’ men on our heels," Wonwoo announced calmly, “so unless you want them to infringe on your little paradise, you better give us five minutes.”

“Ark! Wonderful. Fugitives,” Mr. Angry McCrabby-Pants muttered to himself, but spun around. His murderous gaze locked on Wonwoo, and the thought that he would kill Wonwoo seriously crossed Junhui’s brain. He tugged on his jacket, pleading for him to not antagonize the man any further.

When Junhui dared take his eyes away from the angry wizard to glance at his partner, Wonwoo seemed to remain impassive in the face of their company. Either he was an incredible actor, or he was genetically incapable of feeling fear. No normal person could stand their ground with such composure.

“What do you want?” Mathias growled.

Wonwoo nodded to the boy at his side, signaling for him to explain.

_Gee, thanks_.

Junhui took in a breath to steady his nerves, then said shakily. “Just a few answers. We got your book, and we thought you might know something about Mo—Yong Hayun’s whereabouts.”

“What book?” he barked, startling the younger.

“The one you sent us...” Junhui answered hesitantly, pulling it out of the backpack to show him. “This one.”

“I didn’t send you any book! What do I look like, a librarian?”

Panic settled in the pit of his stomach, overpowering the fear of the man’s anger. Junhui scrambled for a reasonable explanation. “B-but that’s not possible! I used this book in conjunction with a locator spell to find you!”

Eyeing the boy suspiciously, the man walked up to him and snatched the book from his extended hand. “Well, this _is_ my book. Or it used to be. I traded supplies for it years ago.”

“Oh.” His face fell, along with his hope.

So much work for nothing. Junhui stood there, feeling like someone had just pulled the rug out from under his feet. What was he supposed to do now?

Apathetic to his mental breakdown, the old grumpy goat handed the book back to Wonwoo and dusted his hands. “I think that just about clears up any confusion, doesn’t it? Now go away. I’ve had one meeting too many with Krius. The last thing I need is for him to find me and gripe for more lessons.”

“More lessons?” Junhui repeated.

Mathias sighed impatiently. “Yes.” Without any further comments, he shooed them away with his hands.

Wonwoo cleared his throat. “We still have three minutes.”

The old goat glared, but only sighed irritably. Junhui thanked Wonwoo silently with a squeeze around his wrist, and proceeded to ask for more.

“You’re Krius’ teacher?”

“No, I merely taught him how to build protective shields, and in exchange he would let me live my life in peace. Since then, he has gone to bother everyone else.”

His response gave Junhui hope, so he pushed on. Besides, it seemed that his anger was slowly dwindling, as well. “Then why are you still hiding?”

“Because I don’t want anything else to do with him or nosy people like you two.” He crossed his arms over his chest, his brows still deeply furrowed.

“Aren’t you afraid of using a spell he knows how to undo?” Junhui wondered.

“Of course I am!” he exclaimed. “That’s why I never mentioned the cloaking charms. He only knows how to put up a barrier, but one doesn’t hide what the barrier protects. I had to keep some secrets as my own to defend myself against that sniveling demon.” 

Then it hit him. Whoever the Mysterious Person was, they sent him and Wonwoo the book not to find them, but to find this cranky old man. In order to determine where and how Hayun disappeared, Junhui and Wonwoo had to retrace Hayun’s steps, and that included going to the Pillars. Maybe she left another clue there, like she did at the Beach House and Glida Heigh. Or maybe the Mystery Person wanted the same thing as Wonwoo, and that was their reason for helping. Regardless of each of their individual motivations, gaining access to those Pillars had to be the next step. They needed this man’s help to remove the shield protecting the Pillars.

“Would you be willing to help us deactivate the ones he set up around the island?” Junhui asked hopefully.

“And why in the world would I want to do that?”

Forgetting for a moment that these people couldn’t be bothered unless they were personally victimized (and sometimes even then, as was the case of the Kwons’), Junhui replied honestly, “Because he’s a monster, and we need to stop him! My mother figured out how, we just need help executing her instructions.”

Unimpressed, Mathias glanced at Wonwoo, as if unable to believe two people could be so naive. “Your mother... That would be Yong Hayun, the girl who made a deal with Krius and escaped thirty or so years ago?”

Junhui nodded. “Yes, but she came back, and she’s been researching ways to defeat him. She’s been studying how and where he draws his powers from, and how to stop him. We’ve been following her clues hoping to find her since she’s gone missing, and with your help, we’ll be one step closer to her location. Even if you don’t care whether or not I find her, I expect you’d want to get rid of Krius and his rule of this island.”

The old goat put a hand over his chin, rubbing his jaw as he thought about it. Finally, he said, “Sorry, but I’ll pass. I’m all set with everything I need: a house, self-sufficiency, peace of mind, and what else? Oh, right, a _pulse_! Something I won’t have for long if I side with the likes of you!” he shouted again, and Junhui took a cautionary step back, partially behind Wonwoo's shoulder. “Do you know how hard I worked to become invisible? As you can imagine, I would like to remain that way.”

Junhui felt completely crestfallen. He couldn’t look at him in the eye anymore, so he distracted himself by kicking the small rocks by his feet, keeping his head bowed. Overhead, the man continued to rain down his lecture.

“You really think you can go against Krius when all those who ever tried have failed? Ones whom I am willing to bet were much more powerful than you. Your entire family was killed when they tried, and now Hayun is ‘missing.’ Do the math; use your brain, boy. I don’t want to end up like everyone who’s ever tried to challenge him. You want advice, here’s something to chew on: Give up, children. You can’t fight against the river’s current.”

Surprising the young witchling, Wonwoo suggested, “Then just teach him how to remove the shield. If we fail, there’s no great loss to you. But if we succeed, Krius is rendered powerless.”

That got his attention. “Powerless?”

“He draws his powers from six Pillars spread throughout the island. Each is protected by a shield. With the Pillars gone, so are his powers.”

The old goat was still hesitant.

Slowly, Junhui peered up and begged, “Please, following my mom’s journey might be the only way to determine what happened to her, and it would benefit everyone else, too.”

His eyes narrowed as Mathias addressed him, “And how do I know this won’t be all in vain? That you are even capable of sustaining the strain? You couldn’t even use a simple locator spell to find the correct person.”

Again, Wonwoo cut in. “It’s in his blood. He just never had the opportunity to develop it.” Objectively speaking, he knew Wonwoo was just persuading Mr. McCrabby-Pants to help, but it still felt very comforting hearing him champion the witchling’s potential like that.

The old man’s growls ruined the moment, though, “I don’t care if you’re Merlin’s descendant. Unless you can show me that you can handle it, we’re through.”

Junhui nodded meekly.

“Very well,” the old man grunted, the lines on his forehead wrinkling deeply. “First of all, be aware that lowering or raising a shield requires more than literacy. This won’t be as easy as reading some recipe from a spell book.”

As he belittled the process of following spell book instructions, Junhui thought back to his previous experiences with magic. Sure, it might not have been very impressive in comparison to telekinesis or motion freezing, but it wasn’t exactly a walk in the park, either. Junhui worked hard on that locator spell, and he didn’t appreciate the man’s superiority complex.

Mathias went on carelessly, “You need willpower and the ability to coordinate your mind and powers. You have to feel it and control it. Show me that you can do at least that much, and we’ll see if you can handle my shields.”

There it was again, that sense of entitlement. Junhui fought the urge to roll his eyes for fear the old wizard might see it. If they didn’t need him for such an important task, Junhui would totally hate him. Now, though, he had to put up with it, so he nodded.

Mr. Cranky-Pants pointed right at what was left of the burnt firewood. “Rekindle that fire,” he ordered, shifting his weight. The movement accentuated his pot-belly.

Junhui’s eyes widened at his expectations. He stared at the damp wood, then at him, panic quickly rising. He didn’t know if he could even make a fire the regular way with materials this wet. The man had just poured a whole bucket of water over the twigs mere minutes ago. Junhui could still see water dripping and flowing through the dirt. He inhaled deeply, and the lingering smell of smoke clung to his nose. He searched for Wonwoo, hoping he could help in some way.

The latter was leaning on the nearest tree behind him, arms crossed over his chest. A deep frown set on his face. The beanie, he had pulled low, almost covered his eyes as he glared at the scene, then met his partner’s gaze. He gave him a small nod. Junhui swallowed.

“Well?”

At Mr. Cranky-Pants’ prompting, Junhui turned around and agreed to the test, although having no inkling as to what he was supposed to do. He faced the black wood and closed his eyes, recalling what Mr. Shupe had taught him about magic.

Junhui tried to envision the twigs and branches catching on fire, making himself hear the sizzling and crackling as the flames burned bright orange. He focused harder in order to sense the imaginary heat. Slowly, the heat didn’t feel so imaginary anymore. His fingers began to tingle as warmth spread from head to toe. His heart followed, thumping hard inside his chest. Junhui wasn’t sure what was happening, but in his mind, he saw himself flicking his wrist and orange flames bloomed. As if it were the most natural reaction, he raised his hand and duplicated the movement.

In the second before Junhui opened his eyes, he could have sworn it worked. Unfortunately, as did dreams, the vision vanished when his eyes fluttered. Facing him was nothing but the cold and wet charred wood. Utterly disheartened, his shoulders sagged. Next to him, Mathias shook his head disapprovingly and snorted.

“That’s it, then!” he clapped his hands, his voice turning mocking and downright giddy. “Well, aren’t I glad to have had no expectations. Otherwise, the disappointment would have crushed me.”

Mathias spun to find Wonwoo and addressed him. “You can stay out here as long as you want, but I’m not changing my mind.” He started to head back to his house, but paused to add, “And don’t even attempt to scare me with the chances of Krius’ men following you. If they were truly on your trail, they would’ve caught up with you by now. Since you’re still standing here, it means he’s done wasting manpower running after fugitives. He’s got something else in mind.” His eyes swept over the two of them. “Take my advice and run while you can.”

As soon as he slammed his front door, the shield and cloaking devices settled in place. Once again, Wonwoo and Junhui stood in the middle of the large clearing with nothing else but their gear.

Unable to even look at Wonwoo, Junhui kept his head down and circled around, heading for the fallen log deep within the forest he’d spotted earlier. He didn’t want to look at his failure, even if the house was no longer visible.

He crumbled on the fallen tree, his back facing toward the clearing, curling up into himself. Resting his chin on his knees, Junhui pushed his hair out of his eyes and observed the line of ants climbing over pebbles and dead leaves as they made their way across the ground. He tried really hard not to cry from the frustration, anger, and disappointment, but the prickling behind his eyes couldn't be stopped.

Movements at his side caused him to look over. Wonwoo had gathered his bags next to the boy’s seat and set them down. Not explaining what he was doing, he pulled out his map and a pen from the front pocket of his pack, and then set off with one of their flashlights.

Junhui figured Wonwoo still had the compass with him. He watched after him as he wandered off alone jumping over rocks, avoiding bushes. After a few minutes, the vegetation completely blocked his view of his partner’s silhouette. Junhui had no idea where Wonwoo was going or why he was still motivated to do anything at all. At least Junhui knew he was planning on coming back this time; his stuff was still here.

Sighing, Junhui shifted to put his cheek on his knee. He felt like the biggest failure ever. The rest of the journey had now come to a screeching half for the both of them. There was no way for him to know whether Hayun had left any clues at the Pillars that would indicate where she had gone, since they couldn’t get anywhere near any of those Pillars. As for Wonwoo, with the shields still in place, it was impossible to shut off Krius’ powers, and he’ll remain stuck on the island.

With his hands so close to his face, he couldn’t help but notice how red and swollen they had gotten with the cold weather, accentuating the few cuts. Seeing them, he was reminded of the journal. Maybe Hayun had written down something that could help. The pages that followed the last entry he had read contained nothing more than quick calculations and half-written sentences, which he attributed to her attempts at counteracting Krius’ defenses. While he couldn’t understand what those notes referred to, she might have added something else, _anything_ else, after those notes.

He dug around the backpack for the journal and flashlight, then picked at his dry cuticles, knowing he’d draw more than enough blood to get the job done.

 

 

> _Strange symbols adorn the incantation on Pillar A, and it is unclear how they affect it. One simple way to counteract any spell is to rewrite it backward, which would turn Pillar A’s inscription: Let me thrive as the strongest tree in the forest_ → __ _Relay my strength to heal the forest._
> 
> _Maybe more symbols are included on the other Pillars, as well. Once I can take a look at all of them, maybe I can figure out what they mean, if they mean anything at all. To ensure that the final spell to reverse and deactivate the Pillars work at the same time, one element from each location must be included. Collecting some dirt around the Pillar should do the trick._

 

 

> _Pillar B: Let my powers be as boundless as the sea._ → _Return my powers the depths of the sea_ _._

 

 

> _Pillar C: Let fear resonate through the region as the wind howls in the night._
> 
> → __ _Let the breeze erase the fear in the heart of the people when morning comes._

 

Apparently, she did find a way to go through at least the shields at three locations. The labels she used made Junhui turn back a couple pages, where he had noticed a very rough diagram labelled with points A to G. He hadn’t understood what it meant, inferring it had more to do with item placements during spell castings, since she drew a six-pointed star, each point marked A to F, and in the very center, she jotted down an asterisked G.

At the six o’clock position, point A, she made a note with the word ‘forest.’ At point B, going counter-clockwise, she added ‘sea’, and at point C, she subtitled ‘wind’. Now with the context of the latest entries, Junhui realized that it was a rough map of where the Pillars were in relation to one another, as well as, what each inscription talked about. Since the other points had no subtitles, he gathered that she must have stopped at point C before she went missing.

To check the hypothesis, he decoded the next six pages. However, once the pages absorbed the drop of blood, the gibberish faded away, but instead of her writing reappearing, the page remained blank. All of them. Junhui squeezed more blood droplets to test the remaining ten pages or so, but the same event occurred. Whatever happened after Pillar C caused her to vanish without a trace.

“You're going to give yourself permanent back damage if you keep sitting like that.”

Hearing Wonwoo’s voice, Junhui looked up, pulled out of his musings with a small jump. His vision danced momentarily, trying to adjust from the brightness of the flashlight against the white pages, to the now nearly dark woods. He blinked a few times before he could see his partner clearly.

“I'm fine,” Junhui answered, shutting the journal and rubbing his eyes. “Where did you go?”

Now that Junhui could see, he noticed the presence of a tent, and through the open flap, his tied sleeping bag could be spotted. Next to the tent, Wonwoo had already rolled out his sleeping bag on the ground, all of which faced the small campfire he was about to light.

When did he even come back? More importantly, how did Junhui not hear or see anything when he did? _God, I was out of it._

Adding a few more dead leaves as kindling, Wonwoo answered, “Scouting out the best way to get out of the area without disturbing anything.”

Watching him strike the match, Junhui said pensively, “I don’t understand how you can keep going. Or why you would even bother. With the shield in place, it’s impossible for either one of us to get what we want.”

“Junhui,” he sighed, warming his hands for a moment before turning to sit on the other end of the fallen tree. “I’ve been living this nightmare for over two hundred years. Do you really think I’m gonna let the last few hours discourage me?”

“I'm really sorry, I really tried, and—” Junhui squeaked out, but Wonwoo interrupted with a firm voice.

“It's okay. There’s always a way out.”

His optimism surprised him, but unfortunately, it didn’t seem to be contagious. Not this time. Apparently the gloomy weather affected Junhui’s usual good disposition, too. Especially after learning that Hayun had managed to bypass some of the shields, and quite possibly disappeared not long after that.

Wrapping his arms around his knees, he began to talk. “Mom went to three Pillars, and she got through the shields there. She even wrote out the counter-spells for them. Since her entries end after that, it makes me think that was her last stop before she went ‘poof!’” He emphasized with his hands, too exhausted to muster much else than wiggle his fingers.

Still, it made Wonwoo crack a smile, which made him feel a tiny bit better. Not by much, though.

“If I knew how to bypass the shield, we’d be able to follow after her and find out what happened.” He rested his chin on his fist. “As things are now, it doesn’t even matter if we go there, because I wouldn’t be able to get close enough to find anything worthwhile. I think we need another plan.”

To keep his mind from going crazy, Junhui had made himself believe that his mother had gone into hiding and somehow sent Wonwoo her journal so he could find his way to her. Then together they would be able to continue the mission.

Of course, the logical part of his brain raised questions like _How could Wonwoo do that if he can’t even read what she wrote?_ , _What about the Mystery Person who sent us the book?_ , and also, _How did Mom expect him to find Mr. Cranky-Pants without magic?_

All good questions which Junhui decided not to answer, because if he did, it might lead to the conclusion that she had already been caught and killed, so she sent off her journal without proper instructions as a last effort to warn Wonwoo, hoping against all odds that he might figure out a way to read what she discovered. Which he did.

That train of thought came too close to reality, so Junhui didn’t want to acknowledge it. At least not yet.

“Now I think you can see why I’m gonna need a little more than your optimism to see the silver lining,” Junhui muttered.

Wonwoo grinned faintly, throwing a twig into the fire. “Every cloud has one; just give it time to appear.”

It amused him that their conversation involved metaphorical clouds when the whole island was immersed in them constantly.

“After all,” Wonwoo continued, as if having read the other boy’s mind, “we have quite a surplus of them, right?”

Despite it all, Junhui smiled, appreciating his effort to cheer him up. “Yeah.”

Wonwoo took his eyes off of the fire to reciprocate the gesture. “Don’t let what he said get you down.”

A deep breath. “Thank you.” Junhui paused for a moment of silence, then contemplated, “You know, the worst part is that I seriously, for a second, believed that I did it. I felt this… surge of… something coursing throughout my body, and I could have sworn I shot it out of my hand.” He shrugged with a sigh. “But I guess it was my overly creative imagination. People do say that your brain is capable of making you think you feel something, even when you don’t.”

His eyebrows creased slightly. “Don’t be too sure of that,” he said cryptically.

“What does that mean? Did something actually happen?” Junhui asked, getting hopeful.

But Wonwoo merely shrugged, turning away again. “Don’t dismiss your feelings, that’s all. You might have actually felt your powers, but couldn’t get it to do what you wanted. Now if only he wasn’t such an ass about it, he’d let you try again.”

“He already made it clear it was the first and final time,” Junhui reminded him.

“We’ll see.” Junhui eyed him, but he couldn’t read his expression, nor decipher what his tone implied. “People _can_ change their mind given the right motivation.” Dusting his hands, he turned over his shoulder. “Don’t worry about it.”

The conversation was dropped afterward, when Wonwoo lugged his backpack on his knees and took out some more protein bars. He handed Junhui one, and they ate in silence, staring at the fire.

Later that night, when Junhui stretched and yawned, he caught a glimpse of the ever constant, angry, gray clouds over the treetops.

“We were lucky last night, but do you think it’s gonna rain tonight?” he wondered.

Wonwoo glanced up. “By the look of those, the chances are pretty high.” Nodding at the tent, he advised, “You better get inside before the downpour starts.”

He agreed and moved off the log, stretching, but then he saw the sleeping bag on the side. “You can’t sleep out here if it rains! You’ll probably drown.”

Wonwoo rolled his eyes at the exaggeration. “It'll be fine.”

“We can share the tent,” Junhui said, a little puzzled as to why Wonwoo didn’t think of it sooner. “I mean, it’s supposed to fit four people, so I’m pretty sure there’ll be plenty of space for the both of us.”

Still not moving or agreeing to the suggestion, he led Junhui to kid, “I promise to keep my hands to myself.”

That got a laugh out of him, even if it was accompanied by another eye roll. “Get some sleep, Junhui.”

“You better come in before you turn into an icicle!” he called over his shoulder as he crawled inside the tent, smiling to himself when he heard the soft rumble of Wonwoo's chuckles.

 

»»————- ✧ *: ･ﾟ ✧ ————-««

 

After Wonwoo was positive that Junhui had fallen asleep, he picked up the flashlight and found his way back to the clearing. Leaving the witchling alone in the middle of the woods at night unsettled him, but that was all the more reason to start and finish this visit as quickly as possible.

Besides, Wonwoo told himself, he’d already hiked around the area to ensure that nothing would harm the boy in his absence. He had searched for animal dens, hunting lodges, and guard towers. Now the only variable left for him to worry about was Junhui himself; Wonwoo couldn’t guarantee that he’d sleep till morning. Coming back to camp and realizing that he’d woken up and wandered off somewhere, lost, would just be _fantastic_. He quickened his steps.

Arriving in front of where the shield would be now, Wonwoo pointed the flashlight at the empty field. If memory served well, his position would send the light beam across the wizard’s yard and through one of the windows. With some luck, it would strike him right in the face, he thought with satisfaction.

The old bastard will wake up and come out to yell at him soon enough, but he was in a hurry. Every second away from Junhui filled him with apprehension. Wonwoo waved the beam back and forth, which no doubt, will give Mathias a headache when he wakes up—because he was currently starting to get one just by staring at the jerky motions.

He didn’t have to wait very long after that. The door—and the shield—burst open, and the man stormed out. Wonwoo took advantage of his unadjusted eyes to sprint inside, easily dodging Mathias' attempt to grab him. Hearing more than seeing brief movements caused the wizard to run after him, cursing flying, exactly as he had expected. Inside, Wonwoo scanned the furniture and darted for the bookshelf.

Mathias caught up to him as Wonwoo grabbed a book and struck his lighter. Seeing what the younger was about to do, the man halted in his tracks across the room.

“You want to burn down my house because that twit couldn’t do what I asked?” the grump huffed, out of breath.

Wonwoo inched the flame closer to the pages. “It’s a little hard to build a fire when you’re given enchanted wood,” he retorted. The other swallowed nervously. “You may fool Junhui, but I've seen enough magic tricks to know the difference between a genuine challenge and a bewitched one. You made sure he’d _never_ be able to pass your test so you could stay cooped up in here and turn a blind eye on the atrocities Krius is responsible for.”

By the glow of the flashlight he’d set on the mantel, Wonwoo saw the man’s hands twitch. Less than a second later, Mathias raised his arm and sent the nearest lamp flying toward the him. Instinctively, Wonwoo dodged behind the reading chair. The flying object landed in pieces on the rug halfway to his spot. The wizard blinked, staring at his hands in confusion.

Glaring at the younger, he spat out, “You wretched boy! If you really think whatever charm you carry to protect you indefinitely, you’re even more foolish than your boyfriend.” He flung a vase at him, which missed completely and crashed somewhere on his target’s left.

Unimpressed, Wonwoo tapped the lighter against the paper cover of the book. “Don’t tempt me. The older the book, the quicker it burns.”

He fumed, but made no further assaulting attempts. “Fine, so I tipped the balance in my favor,” he admitted bitterly, “But even if I hadn’t, there is no possible way for the kid to wield that kind of energy. With practice, he might be able to light fires and levitate a few things, but other than that...” Scoffing, he shook his head.

Wonwoo's finger itched to light the book he held on fire and throw it on the shelf. Maybe then the old bastard’ll lose his damn superiority complex.

“Excuse me for not believe your assessment.”

“The gall you have!” he shouted in outrage.

His eyes narrowed as Wonwoo watched him. “You’re scared he’ll actually master it, aren’t you? Why else would you sabotage his attempt?”

Mathias rubbed his chin, shaking his head. As if suddenly too tired, he sunk into the sofa with a sigh. “The kid’s gifted, and with practice, he would master it,” he was forced to admit. “What worries me is his blind determination to defy Krius. Once that demon realizes that the kid has the means to defeat him, he’s going to want to know how it happened.”

“And that will lead him back to you,” Wonwoo finished his thoughts.

“Now do you understand why?” he wanted to know, the annoyance still lingering in his gruff voice.

The younger nodded, adding, “But if you don’t teach him, he may never find his mother.”

Looking up, the man studied him. “And where exactly do you fit in this tragic tale?” he asked mockingly. “The kid’s searching for his mother. What are you after? Can't be his affection; he already clings to you and looks at you like you hung the moon. What are you getting from this?”

Ignoring the man's assumptions and comments, Wonwoo answered evenly, “A way off the island.”

The old wizard cackled. “Yet you dare to judge me for being selfish? You’re no different, my boy! I have to admit, you sell your act very well. For a moment, I actually believed you were trying to reunite a kid and his mother. That you actually cared for him. He certainly believes it.”

Wonwoo grimaced, turning away.

“No wonder you were so ready to break into someone’s house and threaten to set fire to their property,” he barked out another laugh. “It’s a question of survival.”

If it weren’t for the fact that Mathias was almost as old as Wonwoo’s father would have been, and that he still needed him to train Junhui, Wonwoo would have clocked him right there. He didn’t have to justify his motives or feelings to him or anyone for that matter.

“I just need to know if you’re going to help us or not,” Wonwoo snapped.

“One question: how confident are you that he’ll render Krius powerless?”

“Very,” Wonwoo replied automatically.

He grinned. “Then you won’t have any problem trading in your protective charm.”

The suggestion hit him like a bucket of cold water. “What?”

“I’ve never encountered one like it. I’ll train the kid in exchange for it.”

Gritting his teeth, Wonwoo tried to breathe. Soonyoung lost his life because of that charm, and now Wonwoo was forced to give it away—to give that sacrifice away. Had it been for someone more deserving, it would have hurt less. To think of Mathias' grimy paws touching it made him sick.

“You can have it tomorrow once Junhui masters your shields,” Wonwoo managed to utter before he could change his mind. Not looking back, he picked up the flashlight and left, mind pushing away the last moments he and Soonyoung spent hiding in that boat, fearing every sound. He closed his eyes and shook his head to dispel the memories of the morning after, when he learned of his friend's fate from inmates and guards. He wanted to leave, to get out of his own head. 

At the campsite, Wonwoo unzipped the tent to find Junhui still curled up in his sleeping bag. A huge sense of relief washed over him, and he sighed, sensing his heart beat regularly again. Everything will be fine, he can keep Junhui safe and not repeat the past. If he told himself that enough, maybe he'll come to believe it. 

With sleep evading him, he should put it to good use and stand guard, stoking the fire to keep it going through the night. Junhui had a tendency to get cold easily.

As he backed out of the tent to gather more firewood, though, the rain started to fall.

_Fantastic_.

Wonwoo stood in place for a moment, letting the cold water hit him. Inside the tent, Junhui stirred due to the wind and raindrops slanting in.

Sighing, Wonwoo looked over at his sleeping bag laying out in the open, slowly getting soaked. Then, reluctantly, he dragged himself over to pick it up and carry it inside. As he settled down and zipped the flap close, he glanced at Junhui's silhouette and shook his head with a barely there grin.  _“You better come in before you turn into an icicle!”_

"I did. You better be happy," he muttered into the bedding, not quite able to repress the amusement.

Outside, the rain continued to pour. 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor insecure baby junnie (つ﹏⊂) but wonu DOES care! he's just... allergic to expressing his feelings lol.
> 
> That damn cranky old coot, though (¬_¬) How dare he!!! Just an all-around terrible person. Grrr. But he gets _one_ brownie point for shipping wonhui heh (─‿─)
> 
> Anyway! We'll get to see Jun doing magic next chapter! (∩｡･ｏ･｡)っ.ﾟ☆｡'` Finally! Whew!
> 
> If you have any questions about Hayun's notes, please don't hesitate to ask! ^_^ I hope it's clear enough, but if not, i'll be happy to add more clarifications!
> 
> As always, thank you very much for reading!  
> xoxoxo


	13. Perspective

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jun learns how to use his magic, and WonHui show off how bad they are at feelings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: mention of suicide. It's just a passing sentence, but just in case it makes anyone uncomfortable.
> 
> -

 

This morning, Junhui had been surprised to find Wonwoo’s sleeping bag inside the tent, although positioned on the very far end. The main reason had to do with his shock that Wonwoo actually listened to him, instead of stubbornly facing the rain (like the ordeal with the umbrella). On a more embarrassing note, Junhui couldn’t shake off the feeling of something warm and sturdy encasing his body last night, when the chill had descended to its lowest point. His mind was still hazy from sleep, but he distinctively recalled rolling over at some point and throwing his arm over a warm body.

Seeing Wonwoo’s empty sleeping bag in the corner now, he considered that perhaps it had merely been a dream. Maybe he just missed HuiHui and something to cuddle, leading his mind to conjure up silly and unreal memories. No way did Wonwoo sleep next to him last night; the position of their sleeping bags was proof. 

Shrugging, he patted down his bedhead and stretched out his limbs, wondering where Wonwoo had gone off to so early in the morning.

It wasn’t until he undid the tent flap that he saw the other boy studying the map on the log they had sat on the previous evening. Hearing the sound of the velcro and zipper, he looked over his shoulder.

“Hey.”

Junhui rubbed the lingering sleep out of his eyes. “’Morning,” he murmured, stumbling out to join him.

The delicious smell of coffee and firewood tickled his nose as Wonwoo grabbed a metal mug and poured him a good amount, nudging the bag of food at their feet.

“Eat up,” Wonwoo said, sipping at his own coffee. “You’re gonna need it for today’s activities.”

“Mm.” He obeyed easily enough, never one to refuse food. “Are we hiking more?”

“No, not yet. You got an appointment first.”

Confused, Junhui stared at him over the rim of the cup.

Seeing the wide eyes, Wonwoo chuckled. “Don’t worry about it. Finish your breakfast.” Then he went back to studying the map and jotting down quick notes.

Junhui didn’t really understand what he was talking about, but decided to do what he said anyway. Whatever it was, he’d find out soon enough.

Soon turned out to be about half an hour later, when the two of them began to put their things away. The shield surrounding Mathias’ house wavered, and then the owner walked out. His expression was still pinched in annoyance and irritation, prompting Junhui to back away on instincts.

His jaw all but hit the ground when the old wizard told him he’d agreed to train Junhui. Once the initial shock subsided, he side-eyed Wonwoo suspiciously, recalling their previous conversations. Wonwoo merely shrugged, his eyes sharp and unreadable as they stared at Mathias for a second. When he gestured for Junhui to follow the older out to the clearing, he offered him an encouraging smile.

“Go on, show that cranky goat what you can do.”

Junhui grinned, as though reinvigorated by the boost of confidence. “Okay.”

 

Now, here Junhui stood, an hour later, staring at a pile of rocks. The first test Mathias had given him included creating fire, which Junhui (sort of) managed. There was a lot more smoke than flames, but as the saying goes, ‘there’s no smoke without fire,’ which stood to reason that somewhere among the twigs and branches, a tiny fire had formed. Mathias had cleared the smoke, and told Junhui to do it again, keeping his eyes open on the branches this time.

Junhui wasn’t sure what he did differently, if anything at all, but his fingertips had tingled as he focused, willing bright orange flames to burst forth. Somehow, it worked. Intuitively, he’d flicked his wrist. The moment the tiny flames licked up the twigs, Junhui’s peel of giggles had rung out across the clearing. He’d pressed his hands over his mouth and hopped up and down, eyes never straying from the fire.

He didn’t get much time to rejoice, however. Mathias had counted that test a success and quickly moved to the next lesson. He had given the witchling another task: count the rocks in the pile by lifting each one up and putting them aside, which currently left him a little lost.

The smaller pieces were about the size of a fist, and the larger ones were as big as a watermelon. Making fire, in hindsight, took much less energy out of him. Maybe it was due to the mass or something, but Junhui just couldn’t concentrate enough to move any of them more than a few inches in the air before they’d come crashing down.

“Ugh!” Junhui groaned, rubbing his face and carding a hand through his hair.

“You have to focus!” Mathias shouted behind him. Fearing that the witchling would accidentally drop one of the rocks on his foot, he had moved across the field to a safer vintage point.

“I’m trying!” Junhui insisted in desperation, massaging his temples to ease the pounding headache.

“No, you are not!” Mathias asserted as he walked closer to the student, spitting out harsh words as he did. “Any moron with a brain can brew potions. But when you use your powers physically, you have to put in effort, let the energy flow through your whole body and coordinate it with your head. Then you can control it.”

Junhui nodded his understanding of what the older wanted him to do, but he didn’t know how to do it on demand. During the previous exercise, the flow of energy came naturally to him, and he just flicked his hand, feeling it shoot through his fingers. Now Mathias expected him to find a way to make it happen again, to channel that energy in some _magical_ way to levitate and move these rocks. Junhui wasn’t sure he knew how to get it done.

“Think of it as an extension of yourself,” Mathias offered after seeing yet another pebble hover in the air a couple inches, before crashing down again. “Your magic is part of you. Another limb, if you will.”

Breathing in deeply, Junhui closed his eyes and repeatedly took in deep breaths for a few seconds to relax. He tried hard to conjure that same warm sensation from earlier, letting it spread from head to toe. When he could feel his extremities tingle, Junhui slowly lifted his arm, visualizing that pile of rocks, focusing on the lopsided one at the very top. As if an invisible force held his hand back, he encountered resistance. Still, he kept going, gritting his teeth and raising his arm higher.

“Very good.” For once, Mr. Cranky Pants sounded half-satisfied.

Junhui cracked one eye open. His sharp intake of air almost made him lose it; thankfully, he was able to steady his arm, and stared in wonderment at the object floating at eye-level. His grin hurt his cheeks, but he couldn’t stop. It was amazing!

“Now slowly move it to the side and let it down gently,” he instructed. Even distracted by magic, Junhui didn’t miss him stepping away.

Concentrating, Junhui kept his eyes open this time, chewing on his lip to hold back the grunts from the strain. Carefully, he lowered his arm. The rock following the movement boosted his confidence, and he continued to slide his arm to the side. About a foot away from the pile and a few inches up the ground, he let go. The lopsided rock landed and rolled to a stop.

Laughing, Junhui put a hand over his mouth, jumping in place.

“Great job!” Mr. (Not So) Cranky-Pants said. He definitely sounded a little impressed. “Keep going.”

Not to get ahead of himself, Junhui continued with the small stones at the same pace. Ten small pieces later, the moves became more natural. He didn’t have to concentrate as much to feel the energy through his body. It almost seemed to be present constantly now, that low thrumming under his skin.

When the count reached fifteen, he had to tackle the stony watermelons. Fortunately, there were only three. Hesitantly, Junhui extended out a hand and attempted to wiggle it a bit to see if he could even handle their mass. The target did budge slightly, but the strain significantly increased. His arm shook as he pushed on, managing to raise it up a couple inches. Panting, he tried to lift it up higher, only raising it another foot or so. Beads of sweat broke out on his forehead, but he shifted his arm to the side, nevertheless. The weight, getting too much, forced him to let go halfway to its mark.

Without the resistance, his arm dropped to his side. Still panting, he rubbed and massaged it roughly with his left hand. Idly, he regretted not going to the gym more. No that he actually had any idea if physical strength played any part of it, but still. Years of dancing didn't help at all.

“I need a break,” Junhui announced, collapsing on the remaining two boulders.

Mathias let the younger rest for a moment, while he walked to the trees and picked up a pinecone. Returning, he set it on the watermelon rock Junhui had just moved.

Gesturing to it, he challenged, “Send that pinecone into the woods.”

Staring up at him, the boy raised a brow. “My arm feels like spaghetti right now. It’s gonna take more than a minute for it to go back to normal.”

“Just try it,” he insisted, to which Junhui sighed, but spun to face the target anyway.

Junhui swept the air with a soft flick of the hand, and the poor pinecone flew about ten feet up in the air. He gasped, eyes widening in shock at the ease. Glancing over at Mathias, the old wizard nodded for him to continue.

If a simple flick managed to get it so high up, then Junhui just needed to swing his arm and—

The cone soared right into the bushes, disrupting a flock of birds nearby, and caused them to fly away, chirping angrily.

An incredulous laugh escaped his lips. “Wow!”

“Mm-hm,” Mathias sounded smug again. “That is why we train with rocks. If you can handle them, then you can handle practically anything.”

Wanting to put that theory to test right away, Junhui glanced around and spied the pinecones still hanging on the tree above their heads. He targeted one at random and raised his open hand toward it. Fisting his hand sharply caused the fruit to snap off of its perch and hover in midair. Grinning with excitement, he moved it closer to him and released it into his lap.

“Wow!” Junhui exclaimed with a giggle, toying with the pinecone. “Thank you so much!” he said sincerely. “This is amazing. I can’t wait to show this off to Wonwoo!”

“I doubt he’ll be very impressed.”

Taking his eyes off of his new toy, Junhui looked up, head cocked to the side.

“Apparently, he’s seen plenty of magic tricks.” For some reason, Mathias’ tone sounded rather petty, and very much irritated. “If you really want to impress him, you’ll have to learn how to raise and lower a shield by the end of the day.”

“Oh, right.” The elation from the exercises cooled, and his excitement dwindled when he remembered the whole point of these lessons. He pouted. Magic tricks were cool and all, but there were important things they needed to get done. Like figuring out the clues Hayun left behind at one of these Pillars.

Mathias added offhandedly, “Hopefully, once you know more spells, his delinquent tendencies will decrease.”

When Junhui glanced at him to ask for clarification, he explained, “Your punk of a boyfriend broke into my house last night and threatened to set it ablaze!”

“What!” Junhui did not feel a rush from the comment. _At all._ He quickly latched on the more important part, the fact that Wonwoo was willing to burn down someone’s house. “I’m so sorry!” he replied right away. “I, uh, I didn’t know.”

“I know you didn’t,” Mathias reassured the younger with a huff. “But you best keep an eye on him, seeing as he is your only companion thus far. Be careful not to let his eagerness for freedom cloud his judgement, because then you will be caught, and the repercussions will lead back to me. Understood?”

Junhui nodded, feeling like he’d just been scolded. “Understood.”

How could he so easily forget the nature of their relationship? He and Wonwoo weren’t friends on vacation. They were partners on an important journey. Wonwoo didn’t care about magic tricks unless they somehow served a purpose. ‘ _I can’t wait to show this off to Wonwoo’_? God, what an idiot. Junhui needed to get his act together before he did something stupid. Like getting attached.

Mathias was right, Junhui had to keep an eye on Wonwoo to make sure his partner didn’t attempt another stunt that could harm both of them. Wonwoo could afford to be reckless, since he was on the verge of leaving forever, and he could, more or less, survive on his own until then. But Junhui didn’t have that luxury; Junhui needed him and his expertise of this island in order to find Hayun.

His teacher may be a grouch, and his warning had been mainly to protect himself from involvement, but Junhui was grateful for the wakeup call. It reminded him to put things in perspective, similarly to that conversation with Mr. Shupe. _Remember why you’re here, Jun._

The training session resumed, and after a little over an hour, Junhui succeeded in lifting the remaining boulders off of the ground and moving them at will, with significantly less struggle. The next series of exercises involved the witchling standing at different distances and pulling specific objects to him. Once he got the basics, they moved on to the final session. By then, the sky had begun to darken.

He and Mathias stood facing the tree stump Junhui had sat on yesterday, and the old wizard created a shield around it.

“I want you to try to sense its energy,” he began, gesturing for the boy to concentrate. “Once you do, reach out and bend it.”

That made no sense to him. Junhui understood the ‘sense the field of energy’ part, but how was he supposed to bend it? It wasn’t a twig or a tree branch that he could twist and turn to his heart’s content. He scratched at his hair, nibbling on his lip as he thought, only to come up with nothing.

Nevertheless, he tried to channel the energy by closing his eyes and putting his hands out. The first time he’d touched the shield yesterday, it had reminded of him rubber, but now it was... different, almost alive like a flame or a heartbeat. There was a steady rhythm and cadence to it that he hadn’t been able to discern previously.

A moment later, he found the rhythm and tapped his finger along, following it.

Mathias must have noticed, because he instructed, “Good, now hold on to it. Slowly pull on it.”

Following his instructions, Junhui tried, but he encountered the same resistance as before when he’d practiced with the rocks. This time, it wasn’t sheer force and mass that weighed him down, it was a strong tug, like he was pulling on a giant rubber band.

He fisted his hands and clenched his teeth. The beating drummed along his palms steadily. Giving it all he had, Junhui yanked on it.

The elastic snapped, and he stumbled backward, eyes opening wide as he hit the grass with a dull thud. The first thing he noticed was the twilight sky. The second was his teacher staring at him with gray eyebrows shooting up to his forehead.

Mathias closed his gaping mouth, then said, “That was more forceful than I anticipated, but you did it. You got the shield off of the stump!”

_“Really?”_ Junhui sat up, ignoring the dizzy feeling as his mouth hung open. “I got it off?”

The old wizard nodded, almost smiling. “Mind you, it was a small one, and it was quite violent, but well... You’re a very fast learner. Good job!”

Junhui laughed, exhilarated. “Thank you,” was all he could say.

He made the witchling practice some more, each time the shield growing in size. Like anything with practice, it got progressively easier, although Junhui still struggled to lower it instead of snapping it off. According to Mathias, if Junhui were able to lower it, then raising it back up would be much more efficient than creating a new one.

By the time it finally came to learning how to do exactly that, Junhui came to appreciate the need to conserve the shield. No matter what Mathias told him or how loud he shouted, Junhui just couldn’t do it correctly. It was like blowing bubbles, but blowing too hard and they pop before even forming. His magic came out in rapid spurts, and he couldn’t find a way to stretch the shield out before it burst.

One thing Junhui did succeed to do was to exhaust himself. Panting, he bent over, putting his head between his knees to stop his ears from ringing.

“Maybe it’s something I physically can’t do,” he said, feeling how dry his throat had gotten.

“No,” Mathias affirmed, planting his hands on his hips. “No student of mine will fail.”

_Oh, geez._ _There goes that ego again._

“We have tried everything,” Junhui pointed out. “If I don’t have the skills to do it, it won’t matter how many hours you train me or how good of a wizard you are. You just can’t teach a fish to walk.”

As if Junhui hadn’t even spoken, Mathias looked around them searching for something. _Please, no more rocks,_ he prayed. With a grunt, the older faced him again.

“Where is that punk of yours when you need him?”

“Huh? Wonwoo?” Now that he mentioned it, Junhui did wonder what took Wonwoo so long to return to camp. He mentioned walking around to map out their next trail this morning. It was getting dark now; Junhui hoped he was okay. “What do you need him for?”

“To give you an incentive to perform your best.”

Right. Because wanting to find his own mother isn’t a good enough incentive. Still, Junhui remained silent, fingers twisted into his long sleeves. Arguing with the old goat will no doubt get him in more trouble with his sour mood.

“No matter,” Mathias decided. “You’ll have to do for now.” And with that, before Junhui could get himself ready, he waved his hand and sent a pinecone to the boy’s face.

Instincts took over, and Junhui ducked, a yelp slipping past his lips. The object flew over his head and landed in the grass. Eyes wide, he stared at him. “You should’ve warned me!”

“And you should have used your powers,” he shot back. Not missing a beat, he flung the same pinecone toward him.

Junhui dodged out of the way again. “Stop that!”

“Not until your powers become your first reflex.”

“Ah!” The pinecone hit his shoulder when he couldn’t get out of the way fast enough.

It wasn’t like Junhui didn’t try to use what he had just learned. But the speed at which the wizard flung the object at him made it near impossible. As Junhui ran around the field ducking and attempting to either block the object with a shield or redirect its path, he couldn’t help but be reminded of the first time he followed Wonwoo to his apartment. Wonwoo had thrown books at him, expecting the witchling to show him his powers, then, too.

What was up with people throwing painful things at him trying to prompt a reaction?

After who knows how long, Junhui had had enough. His knees and palms were bruised and scratched up, his stomach was empty, his lungs were burning, and he was out of energy. He stopped running suddenly and spun around. The pinecone flew right at him. He shot his arm out, swatting the air in front of it. The projectile changed course and smashed itself against one of the trees on his right.

“Excellent!” Mathias exclaimed, right before sending a rock the size of his head toward his student.

Shrieking from sheer panic, Junhui put his hands up and stopped it about a foot from his face. His breath caught in his throat, his heart threatening to burst out of his ribcage. Holding the rock in mid air, he glared at his crazy teacher. It was one thing to send pinecones at him—they didn’t hurt very much—but to send giant rocks? Was he trying to kill his pupil?

Mathias actually laughed. _He laughed!_ “The better the incentive, the better the result!”

Heaving an annoyed sigh, Junhui backed away and let the boulder hit the ground. The collision actually shook the ground a little bit. He shuddered to think what would have happened if he hadn’t stopped it in time.

“I can’t do this anymore!” Junhui announced with a heaving breath, collapsing on the grass.

“That’s too bad, because I’m not stopping until you get it,” he shouted over him. “You wanted to be trained, you are going to get trained, boy.”

Fisting his hands at his sides, Junhui spun around to face him.

“You stopped and redirected single targets well enough,” Mathias praised, walking over to his house. He picked something up from the window sill, a small container. It jingled like coins when he moved. “Let’s see how you do with multiple targets.”

Dropping the box, he kept the contents floating in the air. In the dim lights of his porch, Junhui could make out small metal things. _Holy fudge_. Was he going to shoot nails at him?

Mathias split the stacks into two groups of about fifteen or so. “Ready?” he mocked.

Obviously not waiting for a reply, he sent those sharp, tetanus-inducing spikes at the boy.

With a startled squeak, Junhui shot to his feet and managed to stop the first group before they made impact, but when Mathias sent the rest at him, Junhui dropped his current hold and focused on the incoming projectiles. Mathias took advantage of that to pick up the first batch and repeat the attack. Much too close for comfort, Junhui was able to freeze them in their tracks before they touched him.

“Good!” he shouted from his spot across the field. “Let’s continue.”

Suddenly, Junhui felt the nails moving closer to him and something strong was pushing against his hold. Biting his bottom lip, he flexed his hands and pushed them away. Understanding dawned on him—Mathias was fighting against the boy’s power.

“I can’t hold on much longer!” Junhui shouted, feeling beads of sweat roll down the side of his face. He knew that the moment his arms gave out, he’d end up with all those nails planted in him.

“I don’t care!” Mathias retorted. “You know what you have to do to make it stop.” To emphasize his point, he pressed further through the witchling’s defenses. Junhui let out a distressed whine.

It got too much; he couldn’t endure the strain anymore. His arms shook from the sheer force he put the muscles through, and his ears rung, vision blackening at the edges. Everything but his brain screamed at his to stop fighting. In one move, his arms fell, and he dropped to his knees, curling up into a tight ball.

For the initial seconds, he expected sharp pains and stinging cuts, but nothing came. He thought maybe Mathias had kept them from killing him at the last moment.

Slowly, Junhui peered from behind his hands and gasped. Nails were hovering all around him. As he looked closer, they were moving, still trying to get to him, but something stopped them in their tracks. Their sharp and pointy ends still threatened to turn him into a colander. 

Could it be? Could Junhui have really managed to form a shield, albeit around his body instead of a target? He shifted a little and spotted the crazy old goat striding toward him, one hand still directed at the projectiles. The proud grin on his face gave him the answer he needed.

As freaked out as he was, Junhui slowly stood up, seeing the shield expand with his movements. On the other side, he noted that Mathias had moved to his feet the box the nails came from. He waited for him. Cautiously, Junhui swept the air and gathered all of them into a pile, then slowly poured everything into the box. Only then did he lower his defensive stance, and with it went the shield around himself.

“Looks like you do have what it takes to create a shield,” Mathias commented smugly. Although he said it in a ‘I told you so’ manner, it felt rather nice to be proven wrong on this matter.

“Does this mean I’ll only be able to do it when faced with direct danger?” Junhui wanted to know. “Because that doesn’t leave much room for error.”

“What I taught you is how to use magic as a resource as your first instinct. Like any skill, you have to keep practicing at your own pace in order to use it at will.”

“What about building a shield? I don’t even know how to do it—it just happened.”

“Why did you put up a shield?” he asked, and Junhui stared blankly at him. He kept waiting for an answer, so Junhui had to say the obvious.

“To protect myself.”

“Exactly. Remember the feeling. Now that you know you can do it, project that sense of protection into your actions,” he instructed.

Junhui nodded, although still unsure how to reproduce the results.

Mathias let him go after that, and the boy thanked him for all his help, bowing several times. Before they parted ways, Mathias reminded him to keep Wonwoo out of trouble to minimize the chances of everything leading back here. As Junhui walked back toward camp, he wondered if Mathias was even his real name.

Wonwoo was warming his hands by the fire when Junhui emerged from the tree line. He guessed the other boy must have recently returned, as well.

“How did it go?” Wonwoo asked, looking over his shoulder as he heard him approach.

Junhui crouched down for a moment to warm up, answering, “Pretty good, if you don’t count the body ache, cuts, and bruises.”

He arched abrow. “I didn’t know you left for boot camp.”

Junhui laughed dryly. “Yeah, neither did I. But on the plus side, I learned plenty.” He grinned, excitement bubbling up.

“That’s all that matters, right?” Wonwoo chuckled at the reaction, adding more firewood.

The other shrugged, moving to sit on the log and pulled the leg of his jeans up to inspect his knee. Bruises of different sizes were definitely forming. Pressing on one, he winced at the tender and abused flesh. He heard Wonwoo hiss in sympathy, and he smiled it off, changing the subject. He didn’t want Wonwoo to feel bad.

“Where have you been all day?” he asked, tugging the jeans to cover up.

“Around. Scouting out the best way to get to our next stop.”

“How did you figure it out from that sketch?” he wanted to know, not remembering Hayun writing out where each Pillar was, exactly.

Wonwoo scooted back and spread out the map in between them. “She hid the coordinates among those scratched out notes,” he said. “I plotted them on the map, and from there, I used her star sketch and the inscriptions on the Pillars. It’d make sense that their location would influence the spell Krius used to activate them. Pillar A refers to the forest, B to the sea, and C talks about the wind.”

Junhui grabbed the flashlight to see the map properly. In the woods, Wonwoo had marked one spot and labelled it A; by the cliffs of the southern shore, he marked B; in the east by what Junhui assumed to be a mountain ridge, he wrote C.

“Wow,” he pointed to the ridge, “How long is it gonna take for us to get there?”

Wonwoo thought for a second, gauging the scale on the map, “From B, probably a day on foot, assuming we don’t get lost. Remember this is just a rough estimate of each Pillar.”

“Wait,” he stopped him. “From point B? Why would we go there? She went missing after she left the mountains. If we want to find her, that’s where we have to go first.”

“We will,” Wonwoo agreed, yet added, “After we go deactivate Pillars A and B.”

“What! But—”

He interjected, “It’s right around here, we might as well stop by. And who knows? Maybe she left something there, too. Afterward, we can follow her trail and move counter-clockwise to the mountains. Besides, you need to some dirt at all the sites, anyway, for the spell to work. It’ll save us time to collect the samples while we’re still close by.”

“I know you’re impatient to get out of here, but the dirt is just gonna add extra weight at this point. We have to deactivate the Pillars at the same time, otherwise Krius will know something’s up. And since we still don’t know how to do that, we need to find my mom. The logical step is to go straight to the mountains.”

Shooting him daggers, Wonwoo stared at him with narrowed eyes. Junhui could feel his irritation radiating out of him, not liking the boy’s tone at all, or the fact that Junhui was arguing with him about the plan of action. Junhui didn’t mean to provoke him, but he had to say something.

“Fine. Whatever you say,” he snapped, standing up. Junhui traced his movements with his eyes as he folded the map and shoved it in his pocket. Not saying a word, he grabbed the flashlight and walked away from camp.

Panicking, Junhui asked, “Where are you going?”

“I’ll be right back,” he replied, not turning around.

Stress caused the words to spill out before Junhui could stop them. “Wherever you’re going, don’t do anything impulsive. Please.”

He stopped, turning around slowly. “Excuse me?”

_God, why couldn’t I keep my mouth shut?_ “Mathias told me what you did last night, and uh...” He fidgeted with his fingers, pretending to be fascinated by the dirt caked under his nails. “You really should stop doing stuff like that.”

Scoffing, Wonwoo paced a couple feet, laughing sarcastically. “I can’t believe I’m getting a lecture from you.”

Frowning, Junhui said, “I’m not lecturing. I’m just being careful, and you should be, too.”

He laughed, but it sounded hollow and angry now. “You make it sound like I broke into his house for the hell of it. I’m not some adrenaline junkie!” he bellowed, but purposely stayed away.

The fact that he knew not to get close to Junhui in case he lost his temper, worried him even more than the potential trouble he could get into right now.

“I did it so he’d train you,” Wonwoo continued, “and I wouldn’t have had to do it if he hadn’t cheated in the first place. In the end, does it really matter? I knew what I was doing, and now look at you! Didn’t you say it yourself that you learned plenty from him? Neither one of us was in any danger, I made sure of that. So why don’t you let me worry about safety, and you just focus on figuring out how to work out your powers?”

That struck a nerve Junhui didn’t know existed. “Because that’s all I’m good for, isn’t it?” he shot back. “Work my magic, cut off Krius’ powers, free you? Do you even care whether I find my mother?”

“Of course I care.” Wonwoo sounded exasperated. “I brought you here, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, to spring _you_ out of his hellish place!” Junhui pointed out. “Which I will happily do once I find her in any shape or form.” He shuddered, remembering those corpses on top of the cliffs at Blackrock Beach.

Wonwoo still glared at him, and Junhui cleared his throat, enunciating, “If I could shut off his powers right this minute, I would totally do it. Believe me, while brewing the locator spell, I had already thought about the possibility of losing your help. I told myself that if we were to find that Mysterious Book Sender, and they knew how to work the spells, I would have held my end of the bargain and deactivated the Pillars for you. Ultimately, that would benefit the both of us. You’d be free, and Krius would no longer pose a threat to me. I’d be able to continue my search for her by myself until I found out what became of her. But now, as you know, we didn’t find the right person. We have no choice but to follow her tracks. Like it or not, unless Krius suddenly drops dead, you are stuck with me until we find her.” 

A few heartbeats passed before Wonwoo resumed the conversation. His voice sounded strained. “What happens if you can’t?”

His eyes widened as Junhui looked sharply at him. “Is that what you think? That she’s gone for good?”

“Of course not!” he denied vehemently. “She was— _is_ —” he groaned, pressing his hands over his face. “Hayun’s my friend, I would never wish something like that to befall her.”

“Then why haven’t you been out looking for her instead of calling me in to replace her at her job?” Junhui questioned.

“I _have_ tried to look for her,” he said painstakingly slowly. “But I knew that the fastest way to get to her was through her journal, which as you know, was so well protected.” Junhui didn’t appreciate his sarcasm, and he pouted. “Even if we don’t want to think about it, we have to consider the possibility that we’ll never find her.”

“That journal somehow went from her to you, so either she sent it to you herself, or someone else did. In either case, _someone_ out there knows what happened to her, and whoever sent you the journal wouldn’t do that unless there’s a solution and a conclusion to all of her research.” Junhui took a breath to calm himself.

Shoving his left hand in his pocket, Wonwoo looked upward and let out a breath. The white puff lingered in the air for a moment.

“Look,” Junhui started softly, “I know you’re frustrated and anxious to get out of here. I get that, but as things are right now, there’s nothing more we can do to speed up the process.”

“I know,” he muttered and kicked a rock.

This conversation had completely veered off the subject Junhui was originally intending for it. He was tired, his body ached, and all he wanted was to sleep. Wonwoo was probably exhausted from a whole day hiking through the woods, too. Stress and fatigue was never a good combination.

Pushing his fingers through his hair, Junhui let out a resigned breath.

“The point I was trying to make before... all of that was said...” he sighed again, composing his thoughts. “Even though I’m just here as an asset to you, please do me a favor: be more careful.”

At the boy’s tone, Wonwoo tore his eyes from the clouds to look over at him. His expression was unreadable, so Junhui continued as if he hadn’t moved at all.

“You’re the only person I have here. If you suddenly disappeared, too... I… I don’t know what I’d do.”

It’d be one thing to lose his help because he finally escaped from the island. It’d be another to wake up and realize that he went missing or got killed. In either case, Junhui would be alone on his quest, but the former would be expected. And Junhui would also feel better knowing Wonwoo was okay, wherever he ended up.

Junhui knew it was stupid to care about a person who didn’t reciprocate the feeling, but he couldn’t help it. Had they not interacted like friends in the past couple days, it would’ve been easy to draw the line. He wished he could find the words to express hisworry in a purely professional and objective tone—that if Wonwoo went missing, Junhui’s life would be at stake, making it the main reason he wanted him to be cautious. But the thing was, that would only be half true. Junhui had come to care for his safety, too.

Not wanting to see his reaction to the confession, Junhui turned back toward the fire and stared at the orange flames. A moment later, he heard his footsteps crunching the dried leaves and twigs as Wonwoo marched away toward wherever.

 

»»————- ✧ *: ･ﾟ ✧ ————-««

 

Seeing Wonwoo coming out of the trees, Mathias walked out of his house, disabling the shield. He stood there waiting for the younger, a satisfied gleam in his eyes.

“Glad to see you, my boy! I thought you’d decided to go back on our little deal.”

Saying nothing, Wonwoo took out the necklace from his pocket. He held it in his hand for a moment, running his thumb over the smooth surface one last time, before handing it over to him.

“What, no witty quip?” Mathias asked as Wonwoo turned to go.

Wonwoo had nothing to say to him. Even if his head wasn’t full of colliding thoughts and questions from his fight with Junhui, Wonwoo wanted nothing else to do with this egocentric old wizard. Especially when it turned out he was a snitch.

What did he expect to accomplish by telling Junhui that Wonwoo broke into his house? Which, technically speaking, he didn’t even do. He threatened to set it on fire, but that was different.

Something hard with sharp spikes hit the back of his head. Wonwoo spun around, shining the flashlight toward the house. Of course there was nothing there, the coward. Rubbing the back of his head, he looked around his feet and found the offending object. A pinecone. _Seriously?_ This was his way of gloating? His way of getting back at him?

What a fucking child.

Resuming the walk, Wonwoo reflected on the recent turns of events. The map hidden at the Beach House led them to Glinda Heigh, where they found supplies. That night, a book was delivered to them, prompting Junhui to learn how to concoct a locator spell. The spell didn’t lead them to the sender, but instead to the wizard responsible for the existence of the shields surrounding the Pillars. Today, Mathias trained Junhui, and the two hikers discovered the locations of the Pillars and half of the incantations necessary to reverse their purpose. Conveniently, the last steps needed to execute the final spell is missing, forcing the pair to continue tracking Hayun’s steps.

It felt like someone was making sure the two of them wouldn’t deactivate the Pillars until Hayun was found. The only two candidates were Hayun herself and the Intruder who delivered that book to them. The more Wonwoo thought about it, the less sense it made for it to be Hayun. She had never wanted Wonwoo to involve her family, and she knew perfectly well that without a blood-relative, he never would have been able to decode her journal to follow the instructions.

That left the Intruder. What did they want? Why were they hiding from him and Junhui? If they knew what happened to Hayun, why not come forward instead of leaving behind breadcrumbs for them to follow?

_Because whoever this person is, they know you’ll leave Junhui on his own the moment he disables the Pillars_.

Shamefully, Wonwoo couldn’t deny the fact that the thought had crossed his mind at one point. Several, to be exact. It had been his plan from the very beginning. Like he had told Junhui, it wasn’t that he didn’t care for Hayun—he did, but with both Jihoon and Soonyoung gone, did he have high expectations that he’d see Hayun again? Not really.

Necessity had forced him to ask Junhui for help, and necessity still dictated that he went along with the witchling until they located Hayun or someone who knew what happened to her. At that point, Wonwoo had to hope that whoever they may find had the final puzzle pieces to enable Junhui to free him from this hellhole.

What Wonwoo feared the most was realizing belatedly—after doing all the work and turning the island upside down—that there was no solution, that Hayun had died before she could complete her notes. Junhui would be heartbroken for sure, but (assuming he was still undetected by Krius) the little witchling would go home.

What would happen to Wonwoo? He would remain stuck on this forsaken island until Krius killed him? Which he’ll be able to now, since he lost Soonyoung’s charm to that old goat.

Simply entertaining the thought made him nauseous.

To think he was so close to success. He didn’t even have to worry about Junhui refusing to perform the spell. The problem rested in the lack of means to do so.

The frustration rose so high, he didn’t dare go back to camp lest he did something he regretted. He kept walking, no real direction in his mind. Maybe he should just fling himself off a cliff now and save myself the impending disappointment of discovering all of this was done in vain. Suicide sounded much more appealing than imprisonment at the mercy of Krius. Better dead than a prisoner and slave to be tortured.

_You’re the only person I have here. If you suddenly disappeared, too... I don’t know what I’d do,_ Junhui’s voice flitted across his mind, and Wonwoo stopped mid-stride, heaving a sigh. The boy had looked so vulnerable, Wonwoo hadn’t had the heart to remind him of their business arrangement and of his apparent readiness to send Wonwoo on his way before he found Hayun. What would Junhui do without him, then?

It wasn’t wise to get attached when none of this was permanent. Wonwoo knew that fact only too well.

Thinking about Junhui sitting alone on that log, his hair a mess, his clothes covered in dirt, hiding the cuts and bruises... How earnest he had sounded, how much hope he clung to that things would turn out for the better.

In his mind, the images blurred together, and Wonwoo recalled Junhui’s innocent expression when the two had spoken about aspirations and the future, of his sheltered life, of the stars and the moon. 

_'If you're really nice to me, I could share some of that.'_

_'Are you saying you'll be my moonlight?'_  

Despite it all, Wonwoo cracked a smile at the thought.

Then the visions changed to various points in their short journey together, without him even consciously thinking about it. The way Junhui pouts, rosy lip protruding. Large doe eyes full of life and mirth. The giggles and full-bodied laughter. The silly things he’d say to lighten the mood and cheer him up. How adamant he was about the umbrella, and the pretty blush dusting his cheeks when their hands touched. The terrified squeaks when they’d ventured to Glida Heigh. The warmth of his body from last night.

All those images replaced his frustration at some point, and Wonwoo balked at the realization. _What the hell am I doing?_

Wonwoo groaned under his breath, wanting to shake himself awake from this haze. He knew better than to let himself care about people nowadays. No more mourning, no more painful separations without goodbyes, no more losing important people to him.

It had been a very grave mistake to have gotten to know Junhui. Wonwoo should have kept some distance between them like he did in the beginning: only participating in conversations when needed, refusing to share or listen to childhood stories. And absolutely no touching.

If Wonwoo had managed to keep their individual purposes at the front of his mind, then he wouldn’t have to swallow the bitter taste of remorse now that he was forced to reevaluate his perspective on continuing to help Junhui when his chances of escaping progressively dwindled.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo what do you know? WonHui are both afraid of being left behind by the other. You know what would solve the issue??? TALK IT OUT WITH EACH OTHER! (ｰ ｰ;) 
> 
> Also, fudge you, Mathias! I was rooting for you to be the asshole but otherwise observant shipper. Why you gotta go and burst Jun's bubble? (¬､¬) And fudge you for being a dick to Wonwoo! He totally should've burned the guy's house, just saying... Grrrr
> 
> At least Jun can do magic now, somewhat. And the feels are slipping in~ You know what that means! _Angst is coming... Dun dun dunnnnn!_
> 
> The next chapter is a Chan POV, which is pretty short, so I'll post it in a couple days. 
> 
> As always, thank you for reading and sticking with the story! ^_^  
> xoxoxo


	14. The Hunt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chan makes terrible decisions and catches up to WonHui.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IMPORTANT ANNOUNCEMENT:
> 
> Ok, so i made a note on the other chapter, BUT. I made a HUGE mistake while uploading and posting chapters. There was supposed a Chan POV in btwn WonHui meeting MG and WonHui going to the abandoned town. I have now posted it, and fixed the chapter numbers. Hopefully it's not too confusing. The missing chapter is called "BARGAIN" and it contains SIGNIFICANT information. This chapter won't make any sense if you don't read that one first. I am so sorry, I have no idea what happened to my brain! (ू˃̣̣̣̣̣̣︿˂̣̣̣̣̣̣ ू)
> 
> -

 

A day after his meeting with Krius at his castle, a package arrived for Chan at the bistro. The inside contained a vial of green liquid, and along with the strange gift came a note. Chan recognized the handwriting, understanding his task. Apparently, Krius needed him to test out the potency of Junhui’s powers by dipping one strand of the witchling’s hair into the liquid. The brighter the liquid glowed, the stronger his powers.

During the afternoon break, Chan went home to search Soonyoung’s room for Junhui’s hair. Unfortunately, he discovered that his mother had swept and washed everything out of fear that Krius might discover his family had lent the boy refuge for a night. _The irony_.

On his way back to the bistro, rain began to pour, forcing him to hide under an awning to get his umbrella out of his backpack. At that moment, he caught a glimpse of what he believed to be Wonwoo and a young man’s form running into the mini-mart across the street. Chan checked his watch, glad to note that he had another twenty minutes before his shift. Clutching his umbrella against the wind, he ran for the store.

The interior was crowded with people trying to get out of the rain. It was loud, hot, and humid. Quickly scanning the faces around him, Chan made his way across the floor, stopping every so often to check out the aisles for them. A black beanie at the umbrella racks drew his attention. Chan jogged toward the figure, unsure what he would say once he got there, but he had to catch up to them before they disappeared again.

Suddenly, a shopping cart rushed out of the aisle as Chan emerged onto the main walkway, almost crashing into him. The mother and her baby came to an abrupt stop when she saw him. The toddler screeched in fright at the sudden halt, and the mother picked her up. Knowing she wouldn’t apologize for almost running him over, Chan searched frantically for the black beanie. With a sunken heart, his eyes glazed over at the sea of dark coats and hoodies, no wool hat in sight.

The frantic state of the store forced him to exit and give up the search for the moment.

 

The next opportunity arose that evening when Chan noticed two guards waiting on him to close down the establishment for the night. Nervous, he scrambled to get it done as fast as he could.

The guards informed him that Krius sent them to aid him. Since Krius felt that Chan hadn’t had much luck throughout the day, he thought having them at the boy’s disposition would be more useful. In the past, he’d always known that Krius kept tabs on people of interest, but it had never crossed his mind how _close_ he watched them. Now he knew.

Accompanied by the two burly men, they walked to Wonwoo’s apartment. It was clear neither he nor Junhui were inside, so there was no need to knock. One of the men inserted some thin instrument into the lock, and after a few seconds, the door sprung open. The lock-picking man stayed out in the alley to stand watch, while the other one followed him inside.

Right away, his companion sniffed the air and circled the living room like a bloodhound picking up a scent. Hesitant, Chan waited and watched him, following a few feet behind. He headed for the hallway, turning into the bedroom. He marched straight to the closet and dug through it. At last, he threw a suitcase onto the mattress. Then he stood back.

Understanding that it was up to him now, Chan approached cautiously. “This is Junhui's?”

The bloodhound nodded curtly.

Chan undid the zipper. Under the haphazardly folded clothes, he got hold of Junhui’s hairbrush. He extracted a strand and dipped the hair inside the open vial. Hardly a second later, the green water started to glow. It was so bright, it could’ve been mistaken for a lightbulb. No wonder Krius wanted to repossess Junhui’s powers. Chan almost wanted them for himself.

The ruff grunting next to him reminded him of why that would be a bad idea. Chan put the cap back on the bottle and pocketed it away.

“Do you think you can track them?” he asked, picking up one of Junhui’s shirts and giving it to the bloodhound.

He pressed the sweater to his nose and inhaled deeply. When he opened his eyes, his pupils dilated, quickly overtaking the sclera. Soulless black pools answered the question. If he hadn’t looked terrifying before, now he certainly did.

“Good.”

Had there been any doubt that Wonwoo was protecting Junhui, this just about proved it. Chan couldn’t go against him on his own for several reasons. Physically, Wonwoo was taller and more skillful than him, with cleverness and intelligence to match. That detail alone wasn’t a real challenge as Chan would have Krius’ guards with him, ready to fight and immobilize him. No, what bothered the younger was Wonwoo’s relationship to Soonyoung. Once Krius returned him to life, he would never forgive Chan for hurting his best friend. There was only one way to get Wonwoo to hand Junhui over, and for that, Chan needed Krius.

He asked his companions to take him to their master's’ castle. This time, the travel wasn’t as torturous. Once there, they escorted him down the same hallways and past the same doors until they arrived in front of the studies. He knocked, and Krius let the boy in.

Krius had changed the overall color of the room—instead of red, now it was decorated with shades of green. Soft classical music played in the background, and Chan could see the top of his head bobbing left and right to the sound, as if entranced, behind his throne.

Coming in, Chan had already known to hold his tongue until Krius addressed him, so he continued to stand still at this end of the table, waiting for his presence to be acknowledged. A bird of prey of some kind behind Chan screeched, and he flinched at the sound. He turned to look, seeing a falcon perched on a gold stand, staring at him. Its gaze disturbed him immensely, and he faced forward again.

When the song ended, Krius turned slightly over his shoulder, but not enough for the boy to see his face.

“How may I be of assistance today?” he asked cheerfully.

Chan cleared his throat softly. “I tested Junhui’s hair like you asked,” he began, pulling out the glowing bottle and set it on the table. No sooner had he pulled his hand away that it slid to the other end and right into the older's grasp.

“Wonderful!” he laughed, examining the vial with delight. “Now all you have to do is find him for me.”

“I will,” Chan assured him. “But he’s not alone. Someone is protecting him, and he’s—”

Krius interrupted, not veering away from mirth, “And who might this fellow be?”

Cringing, Chan spit his name out, “Jeon Wonwoo.”

“Jeon Wonwoo,” Krius mulled it over. “Why does that name sound so familiar? Oh! Of course!” Laughing, he tapped his head. “I’m not as sharp as I used to be, apparently. Why, Jeon Wonwoo is a VIP at our correctional facility, is he not?”

His chin hit his chest. “He is,” Chan answered quietly.

“Smart fellow,” he praised offhandedly, “Every time, he finds different ways to escape, then manages to disappear long enough until I lose interest in him. But then he goes and does something to get arrested again and the game continues!” He sighed happily. “I could keep playing that game for years! He is _so_ entertaining in comparison to the rest of you little sheep, so... compliant.” He made a sound of disappointment.

Not knowing what to say, Chan remained quiet.

“Back to little Junhui,” he exclaimed, “You’re telling me that Wonwoo is protecting him. Well, as much I would despair losing such a fun toy, I have no choice but to kill him.”

Panic shot through him like an electric current. “Wait! There’s an easier way.”

“Oh?”

“The only reason he’s keeping Junhui safe is because he believes Junhui can help him leave the island. If you offered him safe passage, he won’t have any need for him anymore.”

“Hmm,” Krius thought. His chair creaked as he spun it left and right. “You’re sure that once I grant him that wish, he’ll hand the little witch over?”

“I’m sure. Leaving the island is the one single thing he wants above all else.”

“Then so be it! He hands little Junhui over, I’ll let him out of the Pact!”

 

 

This morning, the hunt had started favorably through town and continued to the edge of the woods; however, as soon as the guards and Chan began to cross into the woods, the bloodhound encountered some kind of interference. The rain also did nothing to help. They appeared to be going in circles, at times seemingly caused the trail, as if the fugitives spent hours circling one particular area. But for the most part, the bloodhound lost the scent and had to double back to seek it out. It was infuriating and tiresome.

After a day and a half of getting nowhere, Chan was beginning to fear that Krius would lose patience and smite all of them right then and there. Accepting his deal, Chan had to agree to leave the protective charm Hayun gave him off of his person, which meant that if Krius felt displeased at anytime, he could kill the boy like a bug.

Something happened the following night, however. As if whatever disrupted the bloodhound’s abilities all of a sudden disappeared, he immediately latched onto the smell. A mere couple hours later, they saw the small, but bright, flickers of a fire.

Keeping themselves out of sight and earshot, they approached and hid in the bushes to observe their target.

Sitting on a log, Junhui focused his attention on something in front of him. Watching closely, Chan realized the witchling was levitating pebbles. As he moved his index in a circle, the pebbles followed. He played with it for a couple minutes. Once bored of that, he dropped the rocks and waved his hand. A stick came to him, and he used it to doodle in the dirt.

_Would you look at that. Seems like someone learned a few tricks. So much for not knowing about your heritage!_

Next, Junhui levitated the stick to the fire and started to bend the flames. Whichever side he moved his hand, the flames danced along. He managed to make it grow, as well as shrink at will. How long had he been exposed to magic? Mere days, and already he was capable of this much on his own?

Something inside of the younger snapped, and anger boiled over. Why did Junhui have to be so ‘powerful’ that Krius wanted him so badly? To the point of raising the dead back to life to make Chan do his dirty work?

He didn’t like what he was about to do. He didn’t like hurting people, but Junhui and Wonwoo drove him to this point.

Had Wonwoo kept his damn mouth shut, Soonyoung wouldn’t have gotten killed. His death wouldn’t be something Krius could use to tempt Chan into committing sins now. It was all their fault.

Looking around showed no signs of Wonwoo. The witchling was so distracted, he would never see a sneak attack coming until it was too late. It would be quick and painless. With any luck, they would return to Krius’ castle with him as early as dawn.

 

Chan raised his hand to signal for the guards to move forward, when footsteps approached. Quickly, Chan lowered his arm and observed the scene.

Wonwoo was making his way toward the fire, his arms full of firewood. The bastard set the wood down, adding a few to the flames, and took a seat on the log a couple feet away from the witchling.

Chan’s eyes narrowed.

If he couldn’t kidnap Junhui soundlessly, then Wonwoo could definitively lend him a hand.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DUN DUN DUNNNNNNNNN
> 
> As some of you have brought up, Soonyoung's protective charm was VITAL to WonHui staying hidden from detection. and now that Mathias has it... Womp womp womp... 
> 
> BUT CHANNIE!!!! \\(꒪⌓꒪)/ PLEASE RETURN TO YOUR SENSES!!!!!!!!!
> 
> At any rate, thank you for reading! And I apologize one more time for the huge screw up. I'll make sure it doesn't happen again ゜・（／。＼）・゜  
> xoxoxo


	15. Desperate Souls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chan offers Wonwoo a once-in-a-lifetime bargain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello beautiful people! I actually didn't think I was going to be able to post today bc of computer issues, but it got fixed, so hurray!!! ヾ(´◡`)ノ
> 
> Now onto the story!
> 
> -

 

 

Not expecting to get much sleep, Wonwoo circled the area to collect firewood. It was unnaturally cold and foggy tonight, requiring more wood to maintain the fire burning through the night than usual. At least then he’d have something to do while Junhui slept. His pride and self-respect didn’t allow for him to act with so much familiarity with the boy anymore. Boundaries had to be set to limit further contact.

Still, the thought of Junhui shivering and enduring the freezing weather instead of voicing any complaints filled him with uneasiness. He might not be able to provide friendship, but he’d at least give him warmth and comfort. As much comfort as camping in this forsaken place can be, he thought wryly.

Wonwoo wasn’t sure how long he’d been walking, but he had presumed Junhui would be asleep by the time he returned. No such luck. The way Junhui curled himself into a ball as Wonwoo approached told him the boy heard him coming. Wonwoo couldn’t back away and leave the campground without worrying him now.

With a defeated sigh, Wonwoo closed the distance between them and dumped the wood on the ground. Better get himself busy. Minimizing eye contact, he knelt and stoked the fire, keeping his back to the other boy. Junhui said nothing, but Wonwoo felt his gaze on him the whole time. Having gotten used to their nightly conversations, surely he was waiting for Wonwoo to say something.

When Wonwoo didn’t give him what he wanted, Junhui pulled his knees to his chest, circling his arms around them, and rested his chin there. Wonwoo stared at the fire for a moment, knowing he couldn’t add more wood to it lest it got too large. Left without any other choice, he sat on the other end of the log. The two stared off into space for what felt like a long time, before he heard the small and hesitant voice pierce through the sounds of the forest.

“Are you going to tell me you’re not going to help anymore, because it’s too much trouble?”

Sighing, Wonwoo answered honestly, “No, but the idea did cross my mind.” He saw him nod pensively. “But it’s not because it’s too much trouble. I don’t want us to end up at the end of the rope realizing we’ve been chasing a ghost.”

“Everyone thinks she’s dead, including my dad. In essence, I suppose we are chasing after a ghost.” For someone speaking about his potentially dead mother, Junhui sounded very calm.

“Then why do you keep going?” Wonwoo wanted to know. “If you’re not even sure to find her alive?”

A sad smile crossed his face as he stared at the flames. “Because I owe it to myself to find out how the story ends. This,” he waved his hands around, “was more important to her than staying safe with Dad and me. Being the last person who can read her research, I feel responsible to see it to the end, if I can.” Junhui turned to look at him, head pillowed on his arms.

Wonwoo had thought him to be pretty in a flowery fashion since the moment he had met the boy, but now with the flickering light of the fire dancing across Junhui’s features, he looked so soft. Like something delicate that needed to be cherished and protected.

The thought was so startling, Wonwoo cut his eyes away and focused on the stack of firewood at his feet.

“But you know,” Junhui said, interrupting his disjointed thoughts, “I’m not the person you should be worried about.”

“I’m not,” Wonwoo blurted out, then immediately winced.

From the corner of his eye, he glimpsed Junhui’s face fall; however, the boy nodded and turned his face forward again. “That’s good,” he whispered.

Breathing out, Wonwoo pressed his hands over his face, feeling like a complete asshole. “I didn’t mean it like that.” The expectant gaze he felt settle on the side of his face was his cue to elaborate, but Wonwoo didn’t indulge him this time. Instead, he said, “It’s near midnight. You should get some sleep, Junhui.”

“Right.” Sliding off of the log, he walked around the fire to the tent. Right as he unzipped the flap, he looked over his shoulder at his partner. “You _do_ know that I’m gonna do everything I can to get you out of here, right?”

Wonwoo held his gaze across the fire. In that one moment, he could actually believe that it was as simple as making a promise. That all the pieces will fall into place in the end. Despite the doubts jumping in his mind, Wonwoo nodded. “I know.”

The faintest of smiles pulled on Junhui’s full lips as he climbed into the tent, waving at him, then disappeared from view.

Once again, Wonwoo found himself alone with his thoughts. It really shouldn’t have bothered him considering how long it had been since he’d had a genuine blissful moment, but tonight felt oddly empty. Never before had he been left with such a lousy taste in his mouth after a fight. He didn’t feel livid from losing the argument, nor did he get that rush of excitement once his point got across. No, he simply felt hollow.

The fact that nothing got solved had a lot to do with it, but he suspected that having upset the boy sleeping ten feet away from him was responsible, as well. Which was just absurd. Whatever this _feeling_ was, Wonwoo didn’t like it.

Rustling from the bushes yanked him out of his pathetic musings. His eyes darted to the tent, calculating how fast he could get Junhui out before whatever hiding in the darkness attacked. Grabbing the small axe, Wonwoo proceeded cautiously toward the noise. A few feet to it, the brush rustled again, and he raised the weapon, ready to strike.

“Wonwoo, it’s just me!” a younger male voice exclaimed within the same second.

Wonwoo stopped, eyes squinted in the darkness. “Chan?”

Confusion quickly morphed to irritation when the younger walked completely out of the shadows. Now Wonwoo could see his face by the glow of the fire, unharmed. “What the hell are you doing here?” he demanded, gritting his teeth. There was still a small chance that Chan would leave without realizing Wonwoo was camping with someone else. Or so he thought.

Chan shrugged, pointing toward the tent. “Wondering what Junhui’s doing here.”

All pretenses could stop now. Wonwoo's gaze dulled. “How long have you known?”

The bravado momentarily slipped. Perhaps he expected Wonwoo to keep lying. The frankness caught him off-guard. “Uh, I suspected, but I didn’t see it for myself until two nights ago.”

“What did you see?”

He flinched at the harsh tone, but fisted his hands, trying very hard not to cower under the older's scowl. “I found his suitcase.”

Wonwoo’s jaw hung open for a second before snapping shut audibly. He couldn’t believe this. What was wrong with the kid? Had he lost his mind? What on earth could have possessed him to do something like that?

“Why?” The only word Wonwoo could utter through the sheer shock and anger.

“I had to know the truth, and you obviously didn’t want to give it to me,” Chan retorted.

“Now you have it. Go home!”

He stood his ground, albeit shakily. “Aren’t you going to ask me why?”

“No,” Wonwoo replied sharply. “I don’t care.” With the entire day’s weight on his shoulders, the kid’s sudden appearance couldn’t have come at a worst time. If Chan provoked him any further, Wonwoo was honestly afraid he might lash out at him.

“Oh, but I think you’d be interested,” Chan taunted with a grin.

Whirling around, Wonwoo marched toward him, voice firm. “I asked you to leave.”

In order to meet his gaze, Chan had to tilt his head. He swallowed, a sure sign of nervousness. It meant the intimidation had the desired effect. “You don’t scare me, Wonwoo.” The claim lost validity when he gulped and glanced around. 

As if on cue, two large figures materialized by his side. Wonwoo recognized their uniforms right away, and foolish as he was, in that split second, he contemplated pulling Chan out of harm’s way.

However, instead of running toward him, Chan backed away, watching the olderevenly, waiting for him to understand their positions at present.

Wonwoo couldn’t believe this. How could he side with them when their master killed his own brother? How could he side with the enemy? As soon as Wonwoo wondered where Chan’s loyalty (and sanity) laid, a more pressing question demanded to be answered.

“What does Krius want from you?” What was he exploited from the kid?

“What do you think?” With those goons by his side, his confidence flew sky high.

Wonwoo’s eyes shot to the tent, then returned to his adversary. “Why you? He has thousands of soldiers trained to track fugitives. What made him choose you?”

Looking straight into his eyes, Chan said evenly, “The one thing you and I have in common: desperation.”

“I don’t care how desperate you are,” Wonwoo ground out, “It’s never gonna excuse the fact that you’re taking orders from the man who killed your own flesh and blood.”

His eyes bulged and his nostrils flared. Chan pointed at him and snarled, “Don’t you dare talk about him!”

“Yet you trust _Krius_?” Wonwoo questioned the insane reasoning.

Glaring at him, he muttered, “Krius can give me what I want.”

In the back of his mind Wonwoo wondered what he had promised the kid to catapult Chan on the war path, but talking him out of it took precedence over the curiosity.

“No matter what he promised, you can’t risk an innocent life for your selfish interest.”

As if responding to a joke, Chan burst into laughter, but there was nothing light in the sound. “You’re the one to talk, Wonwoo! Isn’t that exactly what you’re doing with Junhui? Here we have the kettle calling the pot black.”

His jaw clenched as he glared back. “You and I are nothing alike. Junhui knew what he was getting himself into. We have an agreement.”

Drawing his face back to a stony expression, Chan mocked, “Don’t act so righteous. We both know the only reason you’re remotely concerned about him is because he can finish whatever plan Hayun concocted while she was here. And of course, you’re hoping it’ll be enough to free you.” He smiled with mock sincerity. “Go ahead, I dare you to deny it.”

“You’re wrong,” Wonwoo grounded out, his grip on the axe handle turning his knuckles white.

Chan threw him an unimpressed glance. “Please. You can lie to yourself all you want, you can probably feed Junhui those lines, and he’ll gobble it up, that naive fool. But you can’t expect me to believe you. Pretend all you want. We both know the truth.”

Dropping the axe, Wonwoo lunged for him, ready to knock some senses back into his brain, wake him up from whatever brainwashing session Krius had exposed him to. But before he could get anywhere near the brat, a fist connected to his jaw. He nearly blacked out from the hit, and while he was reeling, arms grabbed him and yanked backward until his back hit the forest ground.

The barrel of a riffle dug into his chest, and he stopped struggling, glaring up at Chan’s impassive face. His jaw ached, but his teeth were still intact at least. He tasted blood on his tongue, and scowled. No way he’d be able to hide this from Junhui in the morning.

If they even made it out until morning.

“You’d best cease to struggle,” Chan advised. And in that tiny window, he could see a flash of the old Chan. However, that spark of concern vanished too quickly. “I didn’t come here to hurt you.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” he muttered, giving the gun a pointed look.

“I have a proposition for you.”

Every internal alarm sounded off at those words, and Wonwoo looked up sharply.

“Help us bring Junhui in, and your name will be crossed out of the Pact.”

His stomach dropped, but his eyes narrowed. “What’s the catch?”

“There isn’t one. Fair trade. Junhui trusts you, so your cooperation would greatly expedite the ordeal. As soon as he is captured, you will get your ticket off the island.”

Fighting the conflicting emotions colliding inside his head, Wonwoo managed to make his voice sound even. “Why is Krius so generous?”

“Because I asked him to.”

To say that the response surprised him would be an understatement.

When Chan continued, his voice lost its bitterness momentarily. “No matter how I feel about you, you were Soonyoung’s best friend, and he’d never forgive me if anything happened to you.” Clearing his throat, Chan gathered himself together. “So make your choice: work with me and get what you want, or fight back and return to jail.”

Wonwoo stalled, futilely hoping that a solution would present itself. His head was a mess, he could barely hear himself think without the uproar of _freedom_ dangled in front of his nose. He struggled to hold on to the last shred of sanity he possessed.

“What does Krius want with Junhui?”

“His powers.”

“So he’ll live?”

Chan shrugged indifferently. “Most likely, I don’t know.”

That baffled him. Chan had never pretended to be a saint, but he’d always try to be kind and respectful. This attitude toward Junhui was too much out of character.

“What do you have against him?” Wonwoo wanted to know, brows furrowing.

Infuriated, Chan dragged out a sigh. “He went where he wasn’t supposed to. By coming to town, he set off a series of events that ultimately gave me no choice but to become Krius’ bitch,” he glowered.

Wonwoo flickered his eyes toward the two guards standing above him, but they remained unnervingly still despite the insults to their master.

The next statement finally convinced him that one of Chan’s screws had come undone. “Junhui allowed for Krius to take advantage of me.”

“But you made your choice,” Wonwoo pointed out. “You chose to listen to him and agreed to the deal he offered.”

“Right,” the kid stared at him. “And now it’s time to make yours. What’s it gonna be, Wonwoo?” As if on cue, the gun dug further into his flesh, making him hiss. “Just remember that Krius’ deal has a time limit. Help us,” he repeated the ultimatum, “Or go back to jail.”

 

 

The fire burned bright through the night, and while Wonwoo sat no more than three feet from its heat, he couldn’t get warm. But he supposed that a fire had very little effect comforting the souls of the truly desperate.

The offer had been like an oasis in the middle of the desert. It was, by far, not the easiest decision he’d had to make, but now that he did, he had to live with its consequences. He just prayed that it was all worth it.

Eventually, night transformed into day. Yet even as the sky changed brighter, his state of mind turned bleaker. After two centuries, he never imagined that the day he’d be offered freedom would fill him with so much turmoil.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ヽ(ﾟДﾟ)ﾉ waaaaaahhhhhh Channie! I know you're misguided, but still! 
> 
> Wonwoo is now stuck btwn a rock and a hard place（◞‸◟）Freedom or Junnie??? Wonwoo trying to keep junnie warm, though (ಥ﹏ಥ) (whipped jk lol)
> 
> Since it's a pretty short chapter, I'll be double posting this week. I should have the next one out by Thursday/Friday. Eeeep! Here comes the angst~
> 
> Thank you for reading! See you soon! ^_^  
> xoxoxo


	16. Left Behind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jun has to learn to rely on his abilities in the times of trouble.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *:..｡o○ Here comes the angst ○o｡..:*
> 
> Warning for mild and non-graphic violence
> 
> -

 

 

Since the moment they’d gone back on the road this morning, Wonwoo had been very quiet and distant. He still kept up polite responses when prompted, but only when he deemed it necessary. Such as giving directions or point out potential poisonous plants. Otherwise, whenever Junhui tried to strike up a conversation as he had done in the past few days, he was met with one-word sentences. After a few tries, Junhui got the hint. Wonwoo was more interested in keeping his thoughts private than sharing them today.

Traveling with a succinct partner was nothing new, but Junhui had sort of hoped and believed that they’d gone past that point. That conversing about trivial things as they hiked would have become normal by now. Logically, he understood that perhaps Wonwoo had a lot on his mind, hence the lack of participation. But honestly, receiving the cold shoulder stung, and Junhui did his best not to outwardly sulk.

There was also that strange bruise around Wonwoo's jaw and cheek that definitely wasn’t there the night before. Evidently, when Junhui had broached the subject worriedly, he’d turned away and told him not to mind it, since the cause was nothing more than a fall while he went patrolling the woods last night. Junhui hadn’t pushed for more, but it was still strange. Wonwoo was just strange overall today.

Eventually, they two crossed the woods and ended up walking through empty fields and country roads toward the mountain ridge. The surrounding had transformed from greens and browns to grays and browns. Without the overwhelming treetops, they were actually able to see the sky stretch from one end to the other. The resulting sight made Junhui feel quite small.

Aside from hiding in the bushes from the occasional vehicles on the country roads, they made it to the mountains by nightfall relatively scratch-free.

A small inn, established nearby to cater to the mining community, came into view a short moment later. It was tucked inside the rock façade, the roof and walls contorted to fit in the crevice in a way that now it seemed to be a part of the mountain itself. The straggly way the young hikers both appeared, no one questioned their need to stay the night; the staff and guests probably took them for two vagabonds and didn’t bat an eye. It also helped that they looked and smelled disgusting, discouraging their audience from looking too closely.

When the pair walked into the establishment, the dining hall was crowded with hungry and dirty middle-aged men, apparently coming right from work. Junhui couldn’t tell by observing them what the mines were of, but he wouldn’t be surprised if it turned out to be precious metals or gemstones. After all, according to the story Wonwoo told him, the natives were rather fond of shiny and sparkly things. Amusing himself, Junhui imagined all these people as ravens hoarding keys and lost earrings.

Wonwoo asked for two rooms at the front desk, and for some dinner to be brought up. On the second floor, he handed Junhui a key and unlocked the room next to his. They were lucky to have gotten adjacent rooms rather than on opposite ends of the hall. Junhui followed his example and inserted his respective key into the lock, cautiously entering the room and assessing the moderate commodities.

Surprisingly, when he went to close the door, Wonwoo motioned for him to step aside. So he did with raised brows, glancing inside the other room to see Wonwoo’s stuff thrown haphazardly on the floor by the wall.

“Go make sure the windows are locked,” the familiar deep voice urged from behind, and Junhui returned to see its owner crouched in front of the hearth, slowly building up a fire for him.

“Oh, thank you,” Junhui said, scratching at his tousled hair as he went to check the windows. “They’re secured.”

“Good.” Bright orange flames burst to life, and Wonwoo dusted his hands. “Get some rest. If anything happens, scream. Or bang on the wall.” He gestured toward the part where their rooms were connected. 

“Got it. Thank you.”

With a sigh, Wonwoo turned around and silently assessed him for a second. Junhui, not understanding what he could be thinking, began to squirm. Several times, he opened his mouth to speak, but thinking better of it, closed it again. Whatever he wanted to tell him obviously couldn't be easy to put into words. At last, he said, “If anything happens, don't play hero. Just run. Run and don't look back.”

Gaping at him with round eyes, Junhui just stared. This had to be the longest conversation they'd had all day, and it baffled him. What could have possibly brought this on? Still, Wonwoo was waiting for his agreement, so he nodded, albeit hesitantly. “O-okay, I'll... I'll remember.”

Seemingly satisfied, his shoulders relaxed a fraction as he nodded. “Good.” Then he left, motioning for the boy to lock the door behind him.

A few seconds later, he heard some bumping and muffled footsteps from the other side of the wall, and he smiled faintly, comforted that while they were apart, they weren’t too far away. Maybe the strange order was just Wonwoo showing his concern. With a shake of his head, he shrugged off his jacket and headed for the bathroom.

Never had he thought that he would reach this level of excitement upon seeing a mattress and a working shower. After spending days and nights in the wild, he came to appreciate indoor plumbing and hot water so much more.

By the time he had showered and changed out of his disgusting clothes, a soft knock sounded at the door. He cracked it open to accept the food tray and thank the young staff member. The soup smelled delicious, so he dug right in. The way he ate, it was hard to believe it had only been a few days since his last warm meal. For that brief second, he was grateful that Wonwoo had gotten separate rooms. Eating like a wild man was not attractive behavior.

As much as he wished the modern conveniences could last, they had to get back on the road at dawn. They hiked along the trail through the rocky passes following Wonwoo’s compass and map to the correct peak. He had no idea how to tell the difference, but he was glad Wonwoo could. Maybe that was why he wanted to stay focused and not talk.

To distract himself from the arduous climb, Junhui stared out onto the dense evergreen forest surrounding the area now visible thanks to the altitude, listening to the wind whistle, breathing in the crisp air as the pair treaded through the dense fog. At the higher elevation, the dark and angry clouds were almost within reach. So close, he couldn’t help reach out and try to catch them.

While the constant rain drowned the island in a seemingly eternal gloom, it also helped conserve the vegetation. He wasn’t used to seeing as many living plants in the winter, but here they seemed perfectly content growing in between cracks and around rocks. Although there were many individual plants, due to the lack of sunlight, their growth was dwarfed. The stems appeared frail in the wind, carried this way and that without much of a choice in the matter.

It made Junhui sad, thinking about how the people here resembled those thin stems. They lived, but not the way they would like to. Like those bushes fighting for nutrients in the soil and having to crawl over boulders and live in cracks, the inhabitants of the island fought one another for survival and settled for a way of life that gave them just enough to go by. None of them even wanted to reach for more, convinced that this was it.

Well, with the exception of Wonwoo and his friends, he thought as he stole a glimpse at the boy walking a few steps ahead. He heaved a sigh when he thought about the consequences of wanting to leave and the price of freedom.

By midday, the top of the mountain came into view through the clouds. As they climbed the final hundred feet, the air crackled the way it did before a thunderstorm. It felt charged with static electricity to the point that Junhui was afraid of touching anything lest he got zapped. He kept his hands balled up he couldn’t accidentally shock Wonwoo by trying to grab him like he often did.

Additionally to the electric air, the wind picked up in intensity, no longer whistling, but howling and threatening to push them off balance. The combination told him with more certainty that the pair had come to the right place. It felt completely different.

At the summit, they caught their breath and scanned the immediate area. Tall and robust pine trees dotted the landscape, and a thin layer of snow covered the ground like a blanket. Despite the hike causing a spike in his body temperature, the frigid wind roaring around the trees and rock formations still made him shiver.

“Watch your step,” Wonwoo instructed. “The snow is really slippery.”

They walked around searching for any sign that would suggest where Hayun might have gone after her stop here. Although Junhui didn’t voice it, he found it difficult to imagine anything would be left at the site—wherever it was—and even if there was, how would they even find it under this snow? They should have brought along trowels.

Junhui ventured down a slope that lined the mountain, grateful that the surface was rough enough that he could grab onto it for support to avoid falling. About halfway, he could see that it led out to another ledge. He turned around and went to find Wonwoo. The both of them emerged from the path to a pristine field. Junhui had to blink a few times to believe that such a beautiful scene could exist outside of a fairytale.

A pristine layer of snow covered the ground and the tips of the pine trees. Crystal clear and frozen droplets of dew dotted the bushes, and as the wind blew, they chimed. To make it seem even more enchanted, it started to snow softly; snowflakes drifted down and were swept up by the air currents. A soft gasp slipped past his lips, and he heard Wonwoo snort as he reached over to nudge the boy’s jaw close.

The frozen fingers retreated quickly and disappeared inside coat pockets. Junhui spun around to not let his flushed cheeks be seen. _Focus, Jun_.

This hidden field was so lovely; it almost made Junhui overlook the most important thing there: Pillar C.  The way it emerged from the earth gave the impression that some unimaginable powerful force had dug into the ground and pulled the misshapen column up into existence. Holes and crevices in the dark rock gave it its texture, with some spots lighter than the other. The immense and intimidating monolith stood in the middle of the snow like a beacon. Within a radius of ten feet or so of it, nothing grew, nothing obstructed its path.

To make sure that it was due to the shield, Junhui approached cautiously with his hands raised to search for it. At about a dozen paces from it, he encountered resistance and his palms tingled. The sensation differed slightly from Mathias’ shields, more powerful, but he couldn’t sense any other layer of magic. Hopefully, that meant he wasn’t going to get blasted across the field and down the mountain.

He looked over his shoulder at Wonwoo and nodded, signaling that he was about to try. Wonwoo gave him a worried look, his brows creased, but Junhui just smiled, hoping it would be enough to convince him he'd be okay. Taking in a deep breath and focusing, Junhui began to lower the shield.

Right away, a guff of wind hurtled toward them, knocking the witchling off balance, his feet sliding out from under him. He yelped, his muscles tensed, readying for impact as he shut his eyes tight. But instead of the cold snow, his head hit something padded.

Unscrewing his eyelids, Junhui stared up into troubled dark eyes. Wonwoo had caught him, his hands gripping the boy’s upper arms. They stayed frozen in place a few seconds more than necessary, just breathing.

Under the frayed brim of his beanie, Wonwoo’s brows creased, yet he didn’t let go. In fact, Junhui could have sworn his grip tightened just slightly. The rapid rate of Junhui’s heart gradually morphed from one that was caused by fear and adrenaline, to something quite different. Junhui gulped. It didn’t matter that they were standing in the middle of a snowfield. He was burning up, and the way Wonwoo kept staring at him did not help.

Recently, he’d been in quite a lot of situations that involved breaching his and Wonwoo’s personal space, at no point during such close proximity had he gotten _this_ flustered. This was weird. This was _bad_.

Taking into account the current circumstances, he had to act before they did something they’d regret. So reluctantly, Junhui pushed his weight back onto his feet and untangled himself from Wonwoo’s hold.

“Thanks for catching me,” he mumbled, gaze averted and fixing his coat as an excuse.

“No problem,” Wonwoo muttered back, his eyes still agitated.

Junhui lifted his face enough to study him, but kept the questions silent as he knew the other wouldn’t answer the probing. It felt, though, as if he was battling with himself, contemplating something important. Could he still be debating the pros and cons of the mission, resuming their short discussion by the fire two nights ago? Deciding that the answers would have to wait, the two returned to work.

Wonwoo and Junhui proceeded to inspect the Pillar now that the shield was off, circling around it, examining the surfaces. Under his feet, Junhui felt a low rumble, a distinct vibration that he attributed to the energy being harvested and collected. They searched for clues, kicking the snow up. However, a noise coming from the other side of the path made them pause.

At first, it sounded like heavy stomping, then something like low murmurs. His heart jumped into his throat as Junhui spun to stare at the entrance. Without even thinking, he grabbed at Wonwoo’s sleeve. He received a gentle pat as Wonwoo listened for more, then mouthed for Junhui to stay put. By himself, he retraced their steps toward the top. He took quick steps up the slope, then his rigid back disappeared from view.

Junhui swallowed, putting a hand over his chest to calm himself. At any point during the excursion, had someone followed them, they would have known about it. It wasn’t like there had been many distractions that could have masked a third or fourth set of footfalls. Even if pursuers escaped his notice, there was no way Wonwoo would have remained quiet.

That left only the logical conclusion that the noise had come from some native wild beast, perhaps taking a stroll, and the howling wind distorted the growls into murmurs.

Junhui couldn’t believe that he was actually hoping that they heard a bear or something of the sort. Shaking his head to clear it, he read the inscription on the Pillar, noticing there were two.

One was written by Krius, engraved into the stone. The other appeared to be added later on with some kind of chalk—the same chalk Hayun had hidden at Glida Heigh along with the strange design. This meant that once she had decoded the counter-spell, she’d used that special chalk on the Pillars. But what happened once she left the mountains?

He took another look at the Pillar, noting that the symbols around the engraving appeared familiar. In her last entries, she mentioned strange symbols on the Pillars—these must be it. Swinging his backpack to the front, he dug around to find the design that had accompanied the chalk. Within the circle, these exact symbols were drawn among other ones. Could this design be a composite of the ones on each Pillar? Maybe that was the reason why the design still had blank spaces. Hayun was trying to create a diagram where all of these symbols would fit as a whole. Junhui supposed that was the key to deactivating all the Pillars at the same time.

Footsteps came up behind him, and Junhui turned around, expecting to see Wonwoo returning. Recognizing Chan instead, Junhui stumbled back in shock, his brows furrowing in confusion.

“Hello, Junhui.” He smiled pleasantly, treading closer. “I see you didn’t go home after all.”

At the comment, his stomach dropped. Very quickly, suspicion settled in as he was reminded of Wonwoo’s wariness of the younger.

“What are you doing here? Where’s Wonwoo?” Junhui wanted to know, eyes flickering to the tunnel.

Nodding with a smile, Chan said, “Ah, Wonwoo. Didn’t I tell you not to trust him? He just left.”

Dread gripped his throat. Junhui sputtered out, “Wh—What do you mean he ‘left’?”

“Exactly that.” Casually, he threw his thumb over his shoulder. “He’s making his way down the mountain now as we speak.”

“What?” Heart pounding, Junhui swallowed, shaking his head. Denial remained all he had to stay sane. “Wonwoo wouldn’t do that.”

“But he did.” Chan’s voiced turned hard. “I warned you. There is nothing more important to him than finding a way out, and he did. Krius granted his wish.” He shrugged. “And all he had to do was tell me where to find you.”

As he finished the sentence, guards came into view one by one, materializing out of thin air. Junhui counted six. So many thoughts and emotions fought inside his body, he could hardly keep them straight: betrayal, fear, outrage. But mostly hurt. He had been so naïve, so stupid. So blinded by his own need to believe that Wonwoo was good and sincere. That he actually cared for Junhui.

“For what it’s worth,” Chan said conversationally. “It wasn’t an easy choice for him. But in the end, he did what he had to in order to stay alive.” He shook his head. “Just like everyone on this island. I know he’ll deny it to his grave, that he’s different from the rest of us, but he can’t run from the truth.”

Junhui glared at him, his eyes prickling from the anger and hurt, but he swallowed and refused to cry. Because the worst part? He couldn’t even bring himself to hate Wonwoo. No, because he understood. After seeing this town, after hearing about his past, Junhui couldn’t blame him for wanting to escape, and that offer was too good to pass up. He just wished it hadn’t been at his expense.

But what about Chan? The latter had to be the one who pursued Wonwoo and proposed to him the deal at some point after he and Junhui left town; otherwise, he would have handed the witchling over to Chan and the guards that day they were hiding in the mini-mart. Was Chan siding with Krius in order to protect his family? If Junhui was going to die, at least he’d get some answers first.

“What about my mom? Are you responsible for what happened to her, as well?” he demanded.

Chan squared his shoulders, face somber. “No. Krius killed her on his own.”

The words, delivered so callously without any compassion whatsoever, felt like someone had knocked the air right out of him. His breath hitched. Junhui bent over, clutching his stomach as bile rose. It was official. His mother was gone. Truly gone.

“I’m sorry,” Chan whispered.

Junhui looked at him with blurred vision, unable to understand how he could speak with so much pain and sincerity, yet side with the man responsible for killing his brother and friend, among countless other people. Did the need and desire to protect one’s own mean sacrificing others?

“Don’t look at me like I’m some sort of monster,” he snapped. “None of this would have happened if you had listened to me and gone home.”

Not leaving any room for Junhui to even react to the crazy blame, Chan gestured for the guards to move forward.

At once, two of them lunged at the witchling. Too fast for him, the closest one grabbed his arm, jerking it behind his back. Junhui cried out in pain, twisting his body away from them. The sudden move surprised his captor, but the brute recovered quickly, making a grab for his squirming limbs.

Panicking, Junhui lifted his free hand and sent the nearest rocks flying at him and his partner. He fell forward with a startled scream, letting go of their prisoner. The others rushed forward, but Junhui sliced the air and assaulted another guard. Rocks flew erratically overhead, causing them to drop to their knees, covering their heads. Taking advantage of the commotion, Junhui ran toward the path.

Chan shouted above the ruckus, dodging the flying rocks and snow. The raining stones abruptly stopped when Junhui ran out of ammunition. He’d reached the halfway point to the exit, when four guards got to their feet and surrounded him. His feet skidded to a stop. Panting, he backed away, watching each and every one of them. They were slow, watching his moves more closely now that they knew he could use his magic. The redhead flickered his gaze toward his companion.

Junhui whipped his head around, fearing the other two would grab him from behind. Thankfully, they were still knocked out cold on the snow. His luck, though, ran empty. He still had these four brutes cautiously making their way toward him, their weapons raised, aimed right at him. Out of visible objects to hit them with, his eyes darted all around, hoping for a miracle.

They shared understanding looks, and two of them lowered their weapons. Junhui was instantly on the defense. With the others still pointing their guns at him, the blond and redhead attempted to get him into custody. Junhui waited until they crowded together. As they charged for him, he swept his arm over the thick layer of snow and shoved it into their faces. They collapsed with startled grunts, arms desperately waving in the air as they lost their footing. Junhui didn’t wait to see if they got up. He ran. The cold and disorienting distraction proved useful enough to allow him a short reprieve to escape.

He raced straight for the tunneled path, sliding over the frozen puddles. He heard them stomp after him, right on his heels, and he whimpered, pushing his muscles to move harder. The end of the tunnel came into view, and he dashed for it. For a second, it looked like he might even make it out.

Suddenly, he was yanked by the hood of his jacket. With a yelp, he landed in the snow. Chan pulled him to his feet.

“Let’s go!”

“No!”

Without forethought, Junhui twisted out of his grip and elbowed him in the ribs.

Chan fell back with a grunt, and Junhui took the chance to shove more snow at him. Not needing any more conviction that the younger was momentarily incapacitated, Junhui scrambled out of the tunnel.

Chan still managed to scream something unintelligible at the guards, whom were now catching up. Junhui turned over his shoulder to see the black figures starting toward him and the opening of the tunnel. His mind raced. He looked up at the snow piling on the ledge above his head. It’ll take a lot of energy, but it wasn’t like he had much of a choice. He used all he had left to create a snow drift to bury the exit and their exclamations.

Barring their way to him for the immediate moment, Junhui picked up his feet and rushed down the mountain as fast as his muscles could carry him, ignoring the burns in his lungs, picking himself up after every fall and tumble. His knees were scraped, along with his palms, but he could hardly feel the sting. He had to keep running.

By nightfall, Junhui made it down to ground level. Out of breath and lightheaded, he ambled through the plateau at the foot of the ridge. He had no idea where he was relatively to the path he had taken this morning. He didn’t even know if he was on the same side of the mountain. He continued as far as he could to try to find shelter, deeming it safe enough to slow to a walk. By dint of wandering aimlessly, he came upon a few old shacks and empty enclosures in the distance. No smoke escaped the chimneys, no lights brightened the windows. No human life.

His feet could hardly carry him anymore, and Junhui paused at the nearest row of trees lining the wooden fence of the deserted farm. He sunk to his knees and hid in the shadows. Curling up into a ball, he rested his head on his knees to conserve heat for a moment. With his sneakers and the bottom of his jeans soaked due to the snow, it didn’t feel like anything short of a fire would suffice.

After he’d regained some energy, Junhui cautiously went to explore the nearest shack, planning on using it as shelter to get through the night. The door creaked, and he kept it open in case something had also taken refuge in here. When nothing scurried out or roared at him, he felt along the wall and entered. Inside, even though still frigid, the lack of wind blowing at him helped calm the shivers. His hands groped at what felt like used candlesticks on the table. Picking one, he lit it up with his magic and held it close for comforting warmth. Then he lighted the rest, which bathed the little shack in a dim glow.

The one-room hut was covered in dust and cobwebs, but even spiders had abandoned it. There was a small wooden table and bench to the side where he presumed people had their meals. Next to that stood the cold hearth, with nothing but ashes inside. He stared at the fireplace, wishing so much that he could risk it, but he knew that the smoke puffing up out the chimney would be a dead giveaway to his location, so he had to endure the shivers as he scrutinized the rest of the hut. The bare walls supported empty shelves here and there, and opposite the table against the wall was the bed, which was nothing but a thin mattress sitting on a frame.

Junhui inspected the bed, lifting the overly used material to make sure no bug resided there. Only dust moths flew up after he roughly shook it. With an exhausted sigh, he dropped his backpack on the bed and used it as a pillow as he laid down. It didn’t take long for his eyes to flutter shut.

Thoughts after thoughts clashed, but he pushed them all away. For now, all he wanted was to sleep and forget what had happened, pretending for one night that everything was okay, that nothing had changed, that he hadn’t been left behind and abandoned. That Wonwoo would be here when he woke up.

Eventually, his mind tired itself out, and he drifted to sleep.

 

 

_“Junhui. Junhui, honey, wake up!”_

His eyes snapped open, and Junhui searched around in the lightless room. Momentarily, his mind tangled into a mess, making it impossible for him to sort out his thoughts. He couldn’t remember how he had gotten here, and more importantly, what woke him up.

Everything around the hut was quiet. The candle stubs had burned off long ago, plunging everything in the dark once again. As he became more awake, he recalled hearing a voice.

Someone had called his name and woken him up.

No. Not just _someone._ It was his mom’s voice.

The only plausible way he could have heard her was either in a dream or as a figment of his imagination. Before today, Junhui would have hoped that she’d somehow found him, but not anymore. His breath caught as he remembered the heartless reveal of her fate. He wanted to cry to alleviate the pain, but the tears wouldn’t come. A dull and insistent ache deep in his chest seemed to be the only thing his body allowed.

Shouts and yells outside pierced through the silence, startling him, and Junhui scrambled to the window. He gasped; adrenaline shot up. A group of about twenty guards armed with torches and flashlights were making their way across the plateau. One by one, they bulldozed the shacks and set them on fire, searching for the escaped witchling. He had to think fast: stay and force himself to conjure a shield, or flee and hope their light beams didn’t find him?

_Crash!_

He jumped.

Another house collapsed on the ground, consumed by flames. The fire was so bright, when he blinked and looked away, the imprint of the scene remained stamped over his vision. For all intents and purposes, he might be a witch, but that didn’t mean he was going to let them burn him alive.

Junhui took his chances and grabbed his backpack. Stealing another look out the window to make sure they weren’t faced his way, he snuck out and ran. Besides controlling his magic, the ruthless lessons taught him that in case of emergency, his shield would automatically materialize to protect him. That seemed a safer bet than staying put and hoping that he could raise a shield all around the shack.

Several shrieks of panic coming from the burning shacks stopped him in his track. It sounded like women and children. Gripping his bag, he spun around, but the black smoke and even darker night made it impossible to make out any details. All he could hear were distorted shouts, along with cries and screams. Were some of those houses actually inhabited? Guilt gnawed at his conscience at the realization that innocent families were suffering because of him, their homes getting burned and destroyed in order to catch him.

He took a step toward the chaos.

_“If anything happens, don't play hero. Just run. Run and don't look back.”_

He hated it. He hated that even now, he couldn't ignore Wonwoo's words. Gritting his teeth, he clutched the straps of his backpack and turned his back on the columns of smoke and orange flames.

With no mental compass of his surrounding, all he knew to do was run toward the trees to hide. He should have paid more attention over the past couple days, but there was no room for regrets now. In terms of regrets, his biggest one should be listening to Jeon Wonwoo and missing the ferry. He would gladly return the knowledge of his powers if he could go back to his blissful ignorance about this place and what it did to his mother. Not to mention that his heart wouldn’t have been crushed by her death and Wonwoo’s abandonment.

Even with those thoughts, he couldn’t truly convince himself. He came to Amarut Island in search of answers, and he got them. He listened to Wonwoo on his own. Despite how things fell apart, there was no point in regretting. The only thing that mattered was moving forward. He couldn’t lose hope. Not until he Krius caught him. And maybe, not even then.

Perhaps his lucky star hadn’t completely given up on him, because none of the guards noticed as Junhui stumbled into the woods, falling over again and again in the dark. Judging distance-wise, this forest couldn’t be the same as the one he and Wonwoo had crossed the last few days, which made him nervous. Nervous because he had no idea what awaited him among the shrubs and trees, realizing that he would have to survive on his own, battling the wilderness.

Regardless, being mauled by a bear still sounded better than what could happen to him if caught by those guards. Supposedly, his maternal family had amazing magic abilities. Now if Krius had successfully killed them, there was no way he’d survive once caught. The only way he could make it out alive was to run away.

Therefore, he pushed on, praying that the clouds would hold off on the rain for a while longer until he found a cave to take refuge in. The deeper he went, the more obvious it became that without proper lighting, he wouldn’t get very far. He stopped and dug for his keys, hoping the battery in the tiny keychain still worked. Pulling the small tube out, he twisted the top, and thankfully, the bulb burned.

It was far from perfect, but pointing it at his feet, Junhui was able to avoid tripping over roots and rocks. Moreover, with the light source so weak compared to the density of the woods, it didn’t give away his position to those chasing him. He hiked the bumpy trail and climbed over hills, not having any other goal in mind other than to get far away from danger.

At one point, the rainclouds could no longer hold their masses. He heard the low rumble of the thunder, and quickly after that, rain drops hit the ground. He had to move faster; all the while pulling the umbrella out, he prayed it’ll withstand the winds. Gripping the handle tightly, he pushed forward, eventually finding some oversized boulders.

Already soaked, Junhui hardly cared about where he slumped down aside from making sure no snake or other creature inhabited the patch of moss and grass. He curled up against the rock, holding the umbrella overhead to keep the heavy downpour from hitting his face and drowning him. Without a watch handy, he had no idea what time it was. So he sat there in the cold, soaked to the bone, shivering. He clenched down on his teeth to quiet the clatter, but it did little to help. At that moment, his greatest wish was to stay undiscovered by both humans and animals until daybreak.

His mind replayed the conversation he had with Wonwoo at the beginning of the journey about how the rain should deter trackers, and he held on to that hope as hard as he held the umbrella.

Inhaling deeply, Junhui rested his head back against the rock. How could he have believed that he’d be able to survive here? Was this his punishment for disobeying his dad? A lesson to teach him that he better leave decision-makings to others? That he sucked at judging people? At any case, he'd made his bed, and now he had to lie in it. 

A thunderclap broke across the sky; he jumped with a whimper, his heart pounding in his chest.

_Just think happy thoughts_ , he chanted. He thought of the umbrella, and how fortunate that was. He’d done one thing right, at least, by demanding Wonwoo to buy it. Considering his stubbornness, Junhui was rather still surprised Wonwoo gave in to his whims. With a sigh, Junhui shook his head. Thinking of him hurt, especially when his treacherous mind conjured up the pleasant moment they'd shared under the umbrella waiting for Mingyu to drive up outside the store, how his heart had fluttered, and the warmth of his hand enveloping Junhui’s—

_No no no._

He groaned and hit his head on his knees. Next, he thought of HuiHui. It worked for a bit as he recalled his time with her. But it didn’t last long before his mind drifted to the scrawny little cat in the warehouse, Wonwoo’s cat.

_Ugh. Please let the sunrise come faster._

The hours right before dawn were always the darkest, and now he could attest to that. Despite being exhausted beyond belief, he couldn’t close his eyes for even a minute, fearing the possibility of some cougar or black figure appearing. With tired blurry eyes, Junhui decided not to go down memory lane at all. Instead, he focused on his surrounding. First, he noted the eventual absence of the rain and its beats on the umbrella. Then the shade of the sky lightened, gradually going from black to gray.

He made it through the night, Junhui thought incredulously. He sat there for a while longer to gather his wits and release the tension in his muscles. Now that he could see, it was much easier to allow himself to relax, stretching out his legs in front of him. Finally, when the sun rose a little higher, he gathered his limbs.

Groaning as he fought the body ache, he put a hand on the rock and stood up, looking around. With both Hayun and Wonwoo gone, there was no point in him staying on this island any longer. Somehow, he had to find a way back to the harbor. The feat sounded so much easier said than done. Especially in his present situation.

As if to add insults to injury, his stomach growled and the soreness in his throat increased as he swallowed. During the crazy escape last night, he did pass by a large river, if memory served correctly. Were he to retrace his steps to it, not only would he be able to soothe his parched throat, but he might even find civilization. At the very least, he could use it as a measure to guide his out of the woods in a straight line.

To the best of his ability, Junhui found his way back to the large river. After some ambling along, the clear and crisp sound of water flowing caught his ears, and he knew he was on the right track. With that shot of confidence, he picked up his pace and climbed uphill, digging his feet and hands into the muddy soil. At the top, he let out a relieved laugh, seeing the strong current rolling just within reach, its width expanding almost fifty feet to the other side. Taking advantage of the height, he could see that without any sort of vessel, he was stuck on this side of the shore. He gathered a lungful of air and proceeded down the slope to the water.

At the shore, he dropped his backpack and knelt to wash the dirt off his hands, wincing at the raw and red cuts, hissing a little out of pain. He'll have to bandage up as soon as he could, but now he cupped them together and dunked them into the river for a drink. The icy water rolled down his throat, and he roughly wiped his chin clean. First to the left, then to the right, he observed the surrounding and tried to determine which direction to take.

Suddenly, a feral growl tore through the quietude of the morning. Jumping to his feet, Junhui whipped around. A pack of wolves were perched on the very hill he had just come from. His pulse pounded in his ears as he watched them descend one by one, their gaze never leaving their prey from sight. The instinct to flee overrode his system, and before he could even think about it, his legs moved, and he was running. Behind him, he heard their paws hit the dirt, their snarls seemingly right by his ears.

Weak and famished, Junhui couldn’t outrun them for long before his body screamed at him to stop. His lungs were inflamed, his legs as heavy as stone, demanding more energy for the task. He tried to use his powers, but it didn't work. He was too weak. Out of sheer panic, he glanced back and nearly had a heart attack. They were a mere handful of feet behind him. If one of them decided to pounce, he’d be dead.

By dint of not watching his steps, his foot caught on a rock. He lost balance, tumbling forward. The sky and ground flipped over in front of his eyes. Out of nowhere, his eyes caught the water, and in the next second, cold crashed into him. Nose and eyes burning, Junhui kicked his feet to fight against the current, waving his arms to push him upward and catch his breath.

Junhui gasped when he broke through the surface, but his success was short-lived. Being much stronger than him, the current pulled him along and under once again. He kicked and battled in vain. His limbs had no energy left. He couldn’t hold his breath anymore, and water squirted into his lungs. He felt himself drowning, everything stinging and unperceivable, waves rolling and tugging. His weight felt too heavy for him to carry. At last, his arms and legs gave out.

Far, far away, he heard someone call his name.

Then everything turned black.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ummm (・・；) Hi... Before you start chasing me with torches and pitchforks, please hear me out! Remember what I said about growth? Yeah, that applies to all of them (including GyuHao in the later chapters), which means... mistakes. _Huge_ ones in this case. 
> 
> Chan, well, he has a _looooooong_ way to go before he sees where he went wrong.
> 
> Wonwoo needs a reality check. Chan wasn't wrong when he said Wonwoo was obsessed with wanting to leave the island. But as we'll see in the next chapter (his POV), maybe it's not all it's cracked up to be. I also hope you could see him struggle, how much he truly cares for Jun, but it's just... difficult. (Why couldn't WonHui just run away together? Bc WW doesn't have the protective charm anymore. He has a target on his back. No matter where they go, they'll be found. It would just be a repeat of how he and Hoshi ended up caught.)
> 
> Jun simply needs to grow up and stand on his own two feet, realizing his full potential and dealing with things on his own. Remember Jeonghan's lecture? Can't go on in life depending on others to make decisions for you. This entire fic is testing his resolve, tbh... I guess you can sort of compare it to the hell he went through on cyzj... (¬_¬)
> 
> As for the concept of sacrifice, it got kinda philosophical when ChanHui were talking in the mountains, a question that I’ve always pondered: how morally wrong is it to want to save your own family at the price of someone else’s? Like, if you were given the choice to only save one group, who would you choose? i mean, in the fic’s context, obviously, what Wonwoo and Chan are doing is wrong, but given their position, what would we do? Given only one can be saved: our loved ones or some stranger we barely even know? (keep in mind, time-wise, it's barely been a week...)
> 
> That’s sort of the message I wanted to get across: on paper it’s WRONG, but well… it’s not easy to do the right thing when faced with real people... 
> 
>  
> 
> I don't like cliffhangers, so I'll have Wonwoo's POV up in a couple days. Thank you for reading, especially if you actually sat through this pile of ramblings...  
> xoxoxo


	17. Survivor's Guilt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Late at night, Wonwoo does some deep thinking with the help of a friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully this will appease you... (*´∀`*)
> 
> Warning for mention of alcohol
> 
> -

 

 

_Five years ago._

 

 

Hayun had just shared with the rest of their small gathering her theories concerning Krius and the source of his strength. She based her hypothesis on the fact that the Adamentum spell on the lighthouse draws its powers from the land, instead of the caster. It led her to believe that Krius knew how to redirect the energy on the island to his advantage, which would explain why he had complete control of the island. Now she wanted to chart the locations of what she called ‘pulse points’ to test out her theories.

Less than a week after her arrival, and she was already making more progress than Wonwoo and their group could muster in decades. If the constant dread of being caught didn’t damper his moods, her discoveries would have actually excited him.

The basement of Soonyoung’s shop had become their headquarters, but Wonwoo expected them to have to relocate in the next few days. It was never good to stay in one place for long, especially when one of them had to practice magic. Hayun had assured them that she had arranged some kind of distortion charm around herself to mask her powers and keep Krius from tracking it back to the source, but nothing was perfect. All of these experiments and researches were bound to be picked up by the neighbors and Krius’ spies soon enough.

Intermittently throwing rocks in a lake and wait in between the tosses for the ripples to die out lessened the chance of someone noticing. Their little rebel group has been throwing a lot of rocks lately, disturbing the quiet lake that was the mundane life in Serenity Port. Now it was time to wait for the ripples to ebb away before they could resume further.

Consequently, at some point tonight, Wonwoo will have to go scouting around for a safe place to lay low for a while. Hopefully, they could use that time to go through the Yongs’ old books and form a concrete plan of attack.

As Soonyoung and Jihoon left to consult the maps upstairs, Wonwoo stayed back. His eyes caught the name-tag on Hayun’s suitcase. She was currently jotting down something in her journal, when he approached and yanked the tag off. Surprised, she glanced up. He flipped the tag over, seeing her name and address.

“You should know better than leaving this on,” he commented, giving it back to her. “We still don’t know how potent his powers are outside of the island.”

She nodded, tapping the leather strap against her palm. “Right. Thanks, it completely escaped my mind.”

“No problem.”

She pulled the paper out and put it over the flame, but at the last minute, she stopped. Glancing up at him, she seemed to search for something. Unsure, Wonwoo waited for her to speak. When she did, no one was more surprised than he was.

“Can you hold on to this for me?” she asked softly, extending the small card out. His confused expression showed clearly, prompting her to add, “If something happened to me, I’d like you to let my family know.”

“What makes you think I won’t die before you?” he wondered. “Your powers give you an advantage most of us don’t have. Give it to Soonyoung, he still has your protection charm.”

A gentle smile appeared then faded. Her eyes flickered downward for a moment. When she met his gaze again, she said, “I have a very strong hunch that you’ll outlive us all. My powers may protect me, but they also make me a target. Soonyoung’s just as likely to get harmed if he loses the necklace. You, though. You have a knack for survival, and I think your determination has a lot to do with that.” Smiling again, she waved the card. “So please do me this favor?”

Having no other choice, Wonwoo took the card, silently agreeing to the wish. Although in the back of his mind, he wasn’t so sure how accurate her hunches were. As Soonyoung often reminded him, his determination to find a way out might very well be the reason Wonwoo ended up skewered.

As he inspected the address, she made one more request. “Just promise me that you won’t involve my son in any way whatsoever concerning what we’re doing. If we fail, then we fail. He never asked to be part of this curse, and I don’t want him to suffer the consequences of our lifetime.”

Again, she gave him no real choice. “I promise.”

 

 

 

_Present day._

 

 

Hayun’s hopeful smile as Wonwoo tucked the name-tag in his pocket that day, five years ago, now haunted him as he stared out of the busy harbor. He shut his eyes to will away the memory, to no avail. Not only had he not kept the promise, he knowingly left her son in that hellhole.

With the busy streets behind him, Wonwoo stared out onto the water. On a clear night like this, one should have been able to glimpse at Amarut Island from the vintage point of Roselyn’s harbor. It was only a short boat ride away, after all. Maybe it wasn’t too late to return.

After dreaming of leaving that forsaken island for so long, he couldn’t believe he even considered going back.

Sighing, Wonwoo shook his head. If only he knew how to dislodge the guilt and sense of responsibility that warred with the elation of finally being free and standing on the mainland. The clash of emotions ruined this moment. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Pure joy and relief should be coursing through his body right now.

Roselyn was a bustling city, with a lot of cheerful people and colors—a complete opposite of what Serenity Port had become. New, smiling faces passed by him, their laughter and conversations floating around, and the smells of the local cuisine spiced the air. Lively music echoed from the Square, prompting various sounds of awed appreciation and applause. The atmosphere felt so light and jovial. No one was hunched over in fear of invisible guards, no one spoke in hushed tones in order to blend into the dreary surrounding. No one had lost their loved ones to an evil monster. These people could go anywhere they wished without a care in the world. They were free.

Wonwoo had wanted all of this and more, but at what price?

He looked up at the sky, free of ominous clouds, filled with a splatter of twinkling stars. They were dim, due to the light from the city, but still there. Sighing deeply, he swept his gaze over the dark canvas. The sight was beautiful, except there was no moon tonight.

_“There’s not much I can do about the sun and stars, but for what it’s worth, I was the moon for a school performance.”_

_“Are you saying you’ll be my moonlight?”_

As Junhui’s pretty face flitted through his mind, Wonwoo cut his eyes away.

How could he enjoy his freedom when it had cost another’s imprisonment? Now he was the one running free, while Junhui was trapped.

__“_ Our lives should’ve been switched,_ _”_ Junhui had said playfully that first night in the woods. And Wonwoo’s response to him, then, had been all too true: _ _“__ _You wouldn’t have survived here."_

The sea breeze picked up, and Wonwoo shoved his hands inside his pockets. His left knuckles hit something soft, and it wasn’t until he grabbed it to pull it out that he remembered what it was.

Junhui’s scarf.

A group of family and friends, talking and laughing, walked out of one of the boathouse restaurants. Something about the scene made his stomach churn uncomfortably.

Glancing away, Wonwoo let his eyes wander around the harbor; however, wherever he looked, people strolled the streets together. Each and every one of them had a parent, a partner, a friend, or a sibling. It made the fact that Wonwoo had no one all the more apparent. He’d live alone for so long that it had become second nature, yet now he craved the amity. The sort he briefly experienced over the last few days.

Now the only person who could offer him that comfort was miles away. All because Wonwoo pushed him away, when Junhui did nothing but help him.

“Hey, give me some!”

Looking over his shoulder, he stared at a group of friends walking down the streets. A rowdy bunch, fighting over a bag of candy. He snorted and rolled his eyes, already planning on ignoring them when—

“No! These are my favorites. Get your own jelly snacks!”

His heart tumbled against his ribcage. Wonwoo groaned, suddenly his thoughts too overwhelming to handle.

Seeking to shut down his racing mind for the rest of the evening, Wonwoo left the docks and headed down the sidewalk in search of a bar. He wanted to be undisturbed, so he avoided the ones close by, since their proximity to the beach seemed to attract a lot of patrons. He passed by some cats in an alley; they looked up upon hearing footsteps.

_“You must like cats a lot. Did you name this one?”_

_“Happy.”_

_Smiling, Junhui hugged his knees and rested his cheek on top. “That’s cute.”_

_But Wonwoo snorted and shook his head, grin bitter. “I was going for irony.”_

_Deflating like a balloon, Junhui made a face._

_“What’s that expression for?”_

_“I just think kitties should be named after cute things.”_

Wonwoo walked faster. Turning down a much less glamorous street, he entered the small pub.

A few people sitting at the tables by the door eyed him curiously, but no one stopped him, so he walked to the back and slid into a booth. He ordered a beer and drank down its bitter content unenthusiastically. Some music played softly on the radio; the bartender stood by the counter, chatting with a couple men, as he dried glasses and hung them on the rack overhead. Some tables away, a group of rowdy college kids provided the laughing track.

Everything was so calm and _normal_. For once in a very long time, Wonwoo didn’t have to look over his shoulders, afraid that every dark shadow would morph into guards and come to arrest him. No longer being submitted to the sense of dread, of being chased—it was such a novel feeling.

More patrons came and went as the hours passed, but Wonwoo lost interest after a while. As the alcohol seeped into his system and numbed his brain, he somehow ended up hallucinating. Out of nowhere, Jihoon walked toward the booth and sat across from him. The musician’s critical eyes scrutinized him with a disproving scowl.

“I never though I’d see the day you’d turn to alcohol as a solution to your problems,” he said.

Around another swing, Wonwoo retorted, “You still haven’t. You're dead.” If possible, Jihoon’s grimace deepened. Wonwoo sighed. “Why are you here?”

“To congratulate you on a job well done.”

He scoffed, turning away.

Jihoon scanned the bar, drumming his fingers. “Good place for celebration, although kind of lonely, don’t you think?”

Glaring at him, Wonwoo picked up the bottle and drank.

“So where are you headed now?” Jihoon probed.

Keeping his eyes on the table, Wonwoo spun the bottle around its base, spreading the water ring. “I don’t know.”

Jihoon didn’t cease his inquisition. “What happened to all those wonderful dreams about traveling the world?” Wonwoo shrugged, and the other suggested, “Why not start going South? I’m sure you still have the Wens’ address.”

His eyes flickered upward to meet his friend’s. “Why would I want to go there?” he grumbled, body tense.

“To do at least one decent thing by Hayun,” Jihoon shrugged, his focus on the white scarf by his companion’s elbow.

“Get lost, Jihoon!” Wonwoo grunted, maybe too loudly, but he didn’t care. Another pleasant effect of the alcohol. Just for good measure, he gathered the soft fabric closer to him.

The musician chuckled, but not amused at all as he commented, “I wish I could, but it’s a little hard to ‘rest in peace’ when my murderer is still dancing over my grave.”

The anger cooled off immediately, and Wonwoo flinched at the well deserved scorn. “I’m sorry. I wish I could’ve stopped you from going West that day.”

“There was nothing you could’ve done, then,” he acknowledged, “But you can make up for it now. Find a way to overthrow Krius, that’ll surely put my mind and Soonyoung’s at peace.” He tapped the table where the scarf laid. “And yours, too. Don’t let Junhui end up like us—you know you wouldn’t be this conflicted if his fate truly didn’t matter to you one way or another.”

The admission slipped out before he could even think about it. “I’m scared.”

Seemingly surprised, Jihoon arched a brow. “Of what? Getting thrown into jail again?”

But Wonwoo shook his head, eyes boring holes into the woodgrains of the table. “I…” The words were too thick, he could hardly get them out. He swallowed. “I don’t want to care about anyone anymore.”

Jihoon’s gaze softened as he sighed. He threw another glance at the scarf, at the way Wonwoo absentmindedly curled his fingers through the wool as if seeking comfort and reassurance. At last he noted gently, “But you already do.”

Wonwoo’s stopped moving.

“You already care, arguably maybe a little too much, even. And I get it, it’s fucking terrifying,” he snorted out a laugh. “I’m surprised you’re even capable of such feelings after all these years.”

“I left him there, Jihoon,” he breathed out shakily, his chest constricting painfully at the thought.

“Mm. It’s a little late for regrets, isn't it?”

He knew that. He knew it the very second he agreed to Chan’s deal. Despite all the justification and convincing he’d told himself—that Krius didn’t plan on killing Junhui, that Junhui would simply be sent home—the guilt and regret had eaten at him, tearing at his conscience.

So much that he’d almost gone back on his word this morning up in the mountains. If a simple gust of wind had been capable of knocking Junhui off of his feet, what hope did the witchling have for surviving on his own? But then Chan and the guards had shown up, and he'd turned his back on everything.

Wonwoo gripped at his head, screwing his eyes shut in an attempt to block out the memories. His muscles were so taut, he felt himself shake. Until he registered something soft fluttering in front of his face. A gentle scent wafting by briefly, of orange blossoms and vanilla.

He opened his eyes to see the scarf dangle from his grasp. His heart lodged itself in his throat.

“I never expected you to give up before you got what you wanted.”

Jihoon’s remark snapped him out of his daze, and he glimpsed over. The musician’s expression was one of teasing mockery.

“I didn’t,” Wonwoo retorted evenly. “I’m free, aren’t I?”

Fair brows arched. “Is that all you want?” Not staying to hear the response, Jihoon rose from the seat. “You’ve always had a good head on your shoulders, Wonwoo. Use it.” Then he walked away.

A waiter crossed his path, and by the time the man moved to the side, Jihoon had vanished.

Groaning, Wonwoo pressed his free palm against his face, rubbing it roughly, all the while staring at the scarf in his hold. Who knew his conscience would take the form and voice of Lee Jihoon? With a scoff, he laid his flushed cheeks on the cold surface of the table.

It was so easy for Jihoon to lecture him—for his own brain to lecture him. Obviously, Wonwoo knew what he wanted and what needed to be done. Even drunk, he knew right from wrong. However, he couldn’t bring myself to act on it. This decision would require that he relinquish the freedom he had sought and fought so long for, gambling his hopes and dreams, putting his life on the line, when he didn’t even know for sure what had happened to Junhui. Was he even still alive?

When that thought hit, his throat ran dry, and he pushed a hand through his hair, dislodging his hat. In his quest for freedom, he had become the very sort of person he loathed. He was no different than the rest of the town, risking someone else’s life to benefit his own, rather than destroying the source of the trouble.

He was despicable and disgusting. Just like the rest of them.

His head pounded, making it even more difficult to think things through. With a heavy sigh, Wonwoo cracked his eyes open, and they fell on the scarf again. Although he had no idea if Junhui was still alive, he had to go back. As Jihoon pointed out, he couldn’t change the consequences of his decision to leave, but he could maybe use of the outcome to his advantages. Now that his name no longer appeared on the Pact, Wonwoo was free to come and go without Krius knowing. He would seem like any other tourist.

He was now in Junhui’s shoes, wasn’t he?

Diving into potential danger armed with nothing more than the hope that the person they were looking for was still alive. Expecting the chances of finding them safe and well were next to nothing, but unable to quit.

Gulping the last of the beer, he got up. By the door, a table of four had passed out. Glancing around, he noted the lack of attention on him, and plucked the baseball cap off of one of them. Krius might not be aware of his return, but it didn’t hurt to keep wandering eyes from identifying him. He shoved the beanie into his pocket and put on the cap.

Out on the empty streets, Wonwoo breathed in the fresh air, helping clear his head. There remained about seven hours before the ferry took off, which gave him plenty of time to make a few detours before sneaking onboard unnoticed.

 

At dawn, the ferry lifted anchor. Wonwoo was glad that the crew had the brain capacity of sea sponges. None of them questioned his presence. Even though there were a grand total of five other passengers, not one noticed that he hadn’t actually climbed aboard like the rest.

About an hour later, the island came into view. His heart sank as his gaze shifted to take in the excited faces around him. He supposed the crew didn’t really care if a stray tagged along. Sooner or later, all of these people would become Krius’ dinner.

The boat pierced through the thick fog that surrounded the area, and right away, a huge mass weighed down on his shoulders: a physical manifestation of Krius’ control and overwhelming presence. Wonwoo tightened the cap over his head, pulling the brim lower to cover his face, as they made port.

At last, the boat docked, and everyone filed down. Wonwoo stared at the newlywed couple in front of him, questioning their sanity for coming here on their honeymoon. Nothing more romantic than a dreary town in the middle of nowhere. Idly, he wondered how good the island’s press and advertising department must be nowadays to convince honeymooners to visit. Too bad the fire “accident” from several years ago didn’t cause as major a setback as he had hoped.

But then again, a few burning buildings couldn’t deter the fucking demon. He just built new ones and appointed brainless idiots to work for him. Somehow, they managed to lure in even more tourists to the island than when Wonwoo worked there. It wouldn’t surprise him if Krius enchanted the flyers and pamphlets before shipping them out to the mainland. Because really, how else would he manage to compete with real vacation spots?

As if sane people would really consider this hellhole. Although, Wonwoo wouldn’t be surprised if the two idiots in front of him chose to come here on their own.

Wonwoo stepped around them, forcing himself not to roll his eyes as they kept sucking faces and taking selfies, unmindful of the walkway. The rest of the passengers were still waiting for their luggages, when Wonwoo took off along the familiar and hateful boardwalk.

Out of the blue, someone tugged on his sleeve. Wonwoo spun around, seeing a short figure wearing an orange hoodie and jeans. The kid extended out a small note folded in half. After living here for this long, Wonwoo could say for certain that he’d seen each and every single resident at least once. So it was with complete confidence that he knew the kid didn’t belong here. Eyeing him suspiciously, Wonwoo waited for an explanation.

“I’m glad you came back, mister,” he said, waving at the note. “He needs your help.”

His frown deepened. _What the hell?_

“Who does?” he wanted to know, unwilling to let himself hope that the kid referred to the only person Wonwoo wanted to hear from.

The boy smiled faintly. “Who else? He’s waiting for you.”

Wonwoo grabbed the note and unfolded it. Coordinates. Looking up, he attempted to ask for clarifications, but the boy was gone. Wonwoo stood on the boardwalk by himself.

Obviously with the note still clutched in his grasp, he couldn’t have imagined it. He examined the paper again, noting the reference number at the bottom. Searching around, his gaze landed on the store advertising nautical artifacts and maps. It was no coincidence that the kid showed up right as Wonwoo walked past this particular store. Apparently, whoever sent this note was making him work for it.

The possibility that it could be a trap did cross his mind, but he risked it. He was already gambling his life away; this couldn’t tip the balance much further.

Inside the store, Wonwoo eyed the old man by the register. Besides a cursory glance his way, the man didn’t move. Not that he expected him to; short of an earthquake or some other disaster, these people had mastered the art of emptying their minds and sitting like statues.

Wonwoo pulled out the drawers containing the maps and flipped quickly through the sheets to search their corner for the right numbers. Mid-stack, he found the one he needed and pulled it out, laying it flat on the viewing table adjacent to the bookcase. It was a closeup of the Paradise Forest, the one East of the mountain housing Pillar C. Furrowing his brows, he followed the given coordinates, imploring the universe that this wasn’t some cruel joke leading him to a corpse.

Shaking the frightening images out of his mind, Wonwoo concentrated on memorizing the location—about a mile West off the watermills on Archer’s Point. Reaching the location would take half a day on foot, but less than thirty minutes with a motorized vehicle.

Wonwoo swore under his breath, patting his pockets for his keys. Grateful, he pulled them out and made a small detour toward the warehouse for his bike.

_Please let it still be there_ , he chanted as he jogged down the streets. Not wanting to attract further attention from passerby and guards alike, he kept a steady pace, glancing over his shoulders once in a while to ensure he hadn’t gained a tail.

The warehouse came into view. He rounded the corner and sighed in relief seeing the bike. He ran to it, pushing the key in and turned the ignition. The engine roared to life, and not missing a beat, he hopped on and rode down the empty streets out of town, which quickly turned into bumpy country roads.

The sun had fully risen now, so Wonwoo expected to pass by at least some troops on the way, but as he continued on undisturbed, he attributed the result to Krius focusing his lackeys to hunt Junhui—assuming he was still alive.

Wonwoo increased the speed, closing the distance between him and the location. Even with the roar of the motor, he could still hear his pounding heartbeat. He had no idea how he was going to live with himself if Junhui weren’t. Now sober from the alcohol and the blind desire to get away from this hellhole, Wonwoo couldn’t find any reason to condone what he had done. He knew he deserved retribution for it, but _please_ don’t let it be at the cost of another life. Soonyoung and Jihoon already paid with theirs, he didn’t want Junhui to do the same because of him and him selfish determination.

What was the point of possessing the freedom to travel and see the world, if at the end of the day you had no one with whom to share those joys and excitements?

A few rooftops came into view, and Wonwoo continued down the trail until he crossed the knolls and saw the river. He rode along the stream and quickly made out the watermill on the horizon. It shouldn’t be very far now. He kept his eyes on the other shore, the one lining the woods. If Junhui had managed to run away from Chan and the guards from the mountain, he would’ve hid in there.

“Junhui!” he called out, focus intent on every movement. “Junhui!”

As his gaze swept over the land, something came tumbling down the strong current, dragged by the violent stream. It took him a second, but Wonwoo realized the bobbing figure was Junhui. Adrenaline shot through his body like lightning.

He didn’t think about the danger he was putting himself into, of the possibility that they would both drown. All he could think about was how to get Junhui out of danger and into his arms.

The bike skidded to a stop, and he ran. He tore off his jacket and jumped in. The freezing water sucked the air out of his lungs. He broke through the surface, coughing and wincing at the sting. Momentarily, his muscles tensed, but he gritted his chattering teeth and pushed forward. He was swimming against the current, tiring his muscles out seemingly as soon as he began. The icy depths tugged at him, pulling him away from Junhui with each passing wave.

Twice, Wonwoo hit rough spots and lost his stride, plunging toward the freezing bottom. On the second time, he managed to kick his way to the surface, his nose and lungs burning from the forcefully swallowed gulps. He glimpsed at the next fifty feet down the stream. On both sides, the river narrowed and twisted, leading straight for rocks.

By the rate they were traveling, no way would they survive getting thrown over those sharp edges. Giving it every ounce of energy he had left in his cells, Wonwoo kicked his feet and propelled his arms through the water, pushing himself forward.

After what felt like hours, Wonwoo finally reached him. With the momentum he’d gathered, he grabbed Junhui’s arm and pulled the unconscious boy to his chest. His lips were blue, his golden skin on the verge of turning the same shade. Wonwoo hitched him higher, keeping both their heads above the surface as he treaded water with one arm, directing them toward the shore. Now that he wasn’t battling the current, the feat became much more feasible.

At last, Wonwoo hooked his arm over a fallen branch and caught his breath. Then he lifted Junhui out onto the ground, before hopping up and rolling on his back. There was no time to rest, though. Immediately, he leaned over his limp body, dripping water on him. Wonwoo wiped his hair to get it out of his eyes as he felt for a pulse.

For a second, the smooth, ice-cold skin was the only thing he felt under his fingertips. Panic surged, and he pressed his thumb and index on either side of the boy’s throat. The moment stretched out for hours before he could sense the tiny beats. He laughed out loud, unable to recall the last time he had felt this relieved. This _happy_.

Knowing Junhui was alive, Wonwoo proceeded to give him chest compressions. After the third breath, Junhui's body spasmed, and he coughed, spewing up several gulps of water.

“Shh, you're okay,” he reassured him, his own throat raw. “Just calm down and breathe, kitten.”

Junhui's eyes, glazed over, stared up at him and the sky, but Wonwoo doubted that he could compute the images. Junhui rolled his eyes from side to side, but they couldn’t hold the strain. They drooped down, and he lost consciousness again.

“Junhui,” he called softly, trying to pull him back to the living. “Junhui, it’s me. Open your eyes.” He stroked his face, gently patting his cheek. “Junhui, moonlight, please, wake up.”

“Let him rest, Wonwoo.”

Hearing the unexpected female voice, Wonwoo glanced up. Reflexively, his hand tightened on Junhui’s torso, ready to spring up to his feet to fight off the intruder.

About twenty feet away, a woman with light hair and a nondescript dress stood with a walking cane. He’d never seen her before, and that didn’t help ease the anxiety that arose from her sudden presence.

“Who are you?” he wanted to know, voice even. Discretely, he tugged Junhui closer into his lap.

“Freya Blodwen,” she responded, adding, “A friend.”

His eyes narrowed, not trusting anyone self-proclaiming to be ‘a friend.’ Sensing the unease and distrust, she waved her hand toward them. A tingling sensation drifted through like the faintest breeze. When it vanished, his eyes widened. He and Junhui were completely dry.

He shot his gaze back to her. “You’re a witch,” he stated, as if that would help explain her purpose here.

“Indeed,” she nodded with a small smile, approaching. “We don’t have a lot of time. I’ll explain everything once Junhui wakes up.”

“And how do I know you’re not working with Krius?” he questioned, his grip on Junhui not loosening.

They had never heard of another witch in the region aside from Hayun and her family. Anyone with magical powers would have already been eliminated.

She chuckled, her dark eyes crinkling. “I expected your suspicions.” Standing right in front of the pair now, she said, “That’s why I sent you the spell book and the coordinates. It’s much easier to trust a faceless ally.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Told you I'd fix it! :D Compared to THOY angst, this is _nothing_ hahahahaha. As if Wonwoo can really stay away from Junnie pfffftttt.
> 
> Now was it really Jihoon's ghost or just Wonwoo's conscience? You guys decide =P (I personally always found WonHoon to be quite similar in a few different ways, so this worked out pretty well)
> 
> And I'm sorry for continuing to make Wonwoo arrive just as Jun passes out (´∀｀；) BUT THE 'KITTEN' HAS BEEN DROPPED!!! \\(*0*)/ 
> 
> No but the ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* SACRIFICE ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* Can you just imagine how hard it was for him to come back??? Idk, but I'm giving Wonwoo a round of roaring applause. He did it for (VN's voice) TRUE LOVE. Moreover, Wonwoo and water don't fix, yo. And he _still_ jumped in (ღˇᴗˇ)｡o
> 
> Just gotta wait for Jun to wake up and see what he thinks lol
> 
> And the mysterious person has finally been revealed! (∩╹□╹∩) Can she really be trusted??? Dun dun dunnnn!!!


	18. Color Me In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Freya Blodwen reveals the truth behind Krius' backstory, and Jun sees the color red in a whole different light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Helloooooo ( ⸝⸝•ᴗ•⸝⸝ )੭⁾⁾ I hope your week is going well!
> 
> So just a heads-up that Jun's emotions are kind of all over the place in this chapter. I mean, he gets a lot of things thrown at him all at once. Poor kid :c
> 
> -

 

 

Head pounding, Junhui slowly drifted out of the slumber. This was the second time in two days that he’d woken up completely lost as to where he’d landed. Previously, with some backtracking, he had eventually recollected the events leading up to the odd awakening. Now, though, he drew a blank. What happened during the chunk of time between falling in the river and ending up here? Wherever ‘here’ was.

With stinging eyes half-opened, Junhui could distinguish a burning fire in the hearth a few feet from him. He seemed to be lounging on some sort of cot. His body ached, but he could still wiggle his toes and fingers, so he presumed nothing was broken. He blinked slowly, his eyelids heavy. A blanket was pulled up to his chest, and as he looked further down his body, he perceived a figure sitting on the edge of the cot. Another cursory examination of the room showed wooden beams, and he quickly wondered if someone had seen him fall in the water and taken him back to one of those shacks.

_The guards burned all of them, remember?_

At that realization, Junhui snapped his eyes open to take a better look at the figure. His heart hammered; his hands trembled. He gulped, shakily inhaling and exhaling through his mouth as the observed the other person in the room. Shadows danced over the man’s features, obstructing most of his face, but Junhui would’ve recognized those raven locks and red hoodie anywhere.

The prickling behind his eyes intensified as his vision blurred. Roughly, Junhui reached up to wipe the tears away.

The movement caught his attention, and Wonwoo turned to the patient with a start. All the anger and resentment Junhui felt vanished all at once when their gazes met. He sucked in a breath. Dark circles stood out against the pallid complexion of his skin, made all the more ashen due to his black hair, and his face haggard from stress. Wonwoo stared back at him with so much concern and hesitation, Junhui’s head spun.

Why was he here? Why did he look so distraught?

Ignoring the aches and pains in his muscles, Junhui pushed himself to a sitting position. Instinctively, he lifted his hand to grab the red sleeve, but then—

“ _He left. He’s making his way down the mountain now as we speak.”_

As if burned, Junhui jerked his hand away, the force almost sending him toppling over the cot.

“Watch out,” Wonwoo called, reaching toward him, which only caused the injured boy to flinch further away, curling his body into a ball. The outstretched hand fell to the side. Wonwoo sighed.

“I’m fine.” Junhui swallowed thickly, hiding himself behind his arms.

His chest throbbed, and he was having difficulty breathing. Thinking back to the hell he’d gone through, he couldn’t even count the number of times he’d wished Wonwoo would come back, the number of wishes he’d made for that nightmare to have been merely that.

But now that Wonwoo sat before him, his thoughts were a mess. He was happy—elated beyond reason—but he couldn’t hold back the thorny vines of anger and hurt twisting around his heart, either. Fingers digging into his arms, he gritted his teeth. The frustration from this avalanche of conflicting emotions made him want to throw a tantrum, just roll on the floor and kick and scream until he tired himself out so he wouldn’t have to think anymore.

“Why are you here?” Junhui whispered, glancing up. “I expected you to be halfway around the world by now.”

The concern fell from his expression, and indignation replaced it. Dark and sharp eyes hardened.“You’re lucky I’m not.”

Scoffing, Junhui shook his head, irritation mounting anew. “Lucky?” he repeated. “You call being abandoned ‘lucky’?”

Wonwoo flinched. “Aren’t you even going to let me explain?”

But Junhui buried his face into his arms, breathing out to steady his voice, hating how it cracked when he attempted to speak. “There’s nothing to explain. You made a choice, and I reaped the consequences.”

A beat of unbearably heavy silence.

“I’m sorry, Junhui,” Wonwoo whispered, pressing the heels of his palms against his eyes. “No matter what I say, I know…” He took in a breath. “I know it’ll never make up for what you had to go through. What I made you go through. But I am sorry, more than you’ll ever know.” The last words were muffled by the hands covering his face, and Junhui almost didn’t catch them.

Wonwoo had never sounded so vulnerable before. The usually confident and strong young man he’d come to known was nowhere in sight. There sat a boy riddled with regret and hesitancy, swallowed whole by guilt. Junhui’s heart squeezed so hard, he had to bite onto his sleeve to muffle the cry. The urge to comfort him was overwhelming. They were sitting merely a couple feet apart; it’d be so easy to sit up and pull him in, to tell him it was okay, that everything was forgiven.

But Junhui couldn’t move.

He just sat there, curled up on himself, nose and eyes burning as he stared at the other boy. He could barely patch up his own bleeding heart. How did he expect to heal someone else’s? Everything felt so raw. It was too much. Too soon.

“I was so scared when you didn’t return yesterday,” he admitted in a voice so small he’d hoped Wonwoo wouldn’t hear. By the way his shoulders tensed and his eyes flickered, though, it was clear that he did. “But in hindsight, it was probably for the best.”

Shock and surprise caused Wonwoo to sit up sharply, wide eyes strained on the witchling. “What?”

A wry laugh slipped past the latter’s lips as he wiped at his cheeks roughly. “Because you were right. We’ve been chasing a ghost all this time.” He looked over to meet the other’s bewildered gaze. “My mom’s dead.”

Wonwoo froze, his breath catching in his throat. Cursing under his breath, he dropped his gaze to the fire. When he did, the glow from the hearth allowed Junhui to see the muscles in his jaw clench. “Did you… Did you find… her?”

Shaking his head, Junhui gathered his legs tighter against his chest. “No, Chan told me. He said Krius got to her long before he even contacted him.”

Wonwoo sighed, long and exhausted. “I’m sorry.”

Junhui could only nod. He felt numb when it came to Hayun’s death, like the fact hadn’t had time to make sense yet. He was so tired from everything.

The pair sat there motionlessly and in silence for a long minute. The fire crackled and sparked, distracting him momentarily. Would time be enough to dull the marks left behind by those thorny vines? Or would his mind simply override Wonwoo’s departure from his memory to make him forget? Deny it ever happened like it was doing with Hayun’s passing. Perhaps remaining a fool would hurt less.

Eventually, he ventured, “Did… Did you pull me out of the water?”

Wonwoo risked a peek at him. “Yeah.”

“How did you even find me?”

“I had some help,” the other answered, a little hesitant.

His brows furrowed. “Help from whom?”

The door to the little house creaked open as if on cue, and some light spilled in. The time of day didn’t interest him, though, but rather the plump woman entering. Because the light was so limited, Junhui could only make out a few definitive features: she had light hair, either blonde or white, plaited into a single braid across the top of her head with a few flowers peeking through the strands; she wore a loose, tan shirt over a long burgundy skirt, and a brown sash cinched at her waist. To keep her warm, she wore a hooded cloak and leather boots. The bracelets adorning her wrists chimed harmoniously as she walked closer to the cot, beaming with a sympathetic smile.

“Did you children get a chance to discuss your differences, yet?” she asked, casting a look between him and Wonwoo.

Confused, he looked at her with his mouth agape, before turning to Wonwoo for help. The latter cleared his throat, glancing at her briefly before addressing him.

“This is Freya Blodwen. She’s the one who told me where to find you, as well as the person who sent us the book that night in the warehouse.”

Understanding dawned on him. “Oh, um, thank you.” The words sounded so little in comparison to the extent of the gratitude he felt for her help. Although, he was still unsure of her motives. And most importantly, what they were all doing here. Junhui had never felt so disoriented before.

Her smile brightened. “You are very welcome, my dear. I hope you’ve had enough time to recuperate from that eventful day.”

Junhui side-eyed Wonwoo, heart still heavy with conflicting emotions, but decided to confirm her assumption and move on.

“Very good,” she nodded, sitting down at the work bench.

Now that Junhui followed her movements, he noticed the bowls and books laid out on the surface. She began to pluck the petals off of a violet flower as she spoke, her voice serious.

“I wish we had time for more pleasantries, but time is of the essence. In just a few days, Krius will receive his sacrifice offerings at Blackrock Beach, and it will restore his health and stamina. In order to ensure our success, we must deactivate the Pillars as close to that date as possible, ensuring that his energy is at its all-time low.”

Junhui blinked, letting his brain sort out her words and compute their meaning. He blamed the head trauma and exposure for his slow brain power. She wanted to ‘unplug’, so to speak, Krius’ powers while he was weak. The day before he gets his sacrifice offerings would be the time he’d be at his weakest. Sure, the plan made sense strategically, but there were a few issues.

“Um, I’m sorry,” Junhui interrupted gently, “But I don’t think that’s something I can even attempt.” He swallowed. She fixed him with an expectant expression, and he had to clarify, fingers twisting into the blanket in his lap. “Assuming I have what it takes to perform the rites in time, I don’t know how.”

She reached for something across the table. “I do. Your mother left this behind.” Another notebook, this one less beat-up than her journal. She handed it to him.

Junhui pressed his hands over the cover, stroking it slightly with a thumb. “You knew my mother?”

“I know Hayun, yes.” At her use of the present tense, his eyes flickered to hers. Not missing a beat, Freya Blodwen stated, “She’s alive, Junhui.”

His breath caught. He gaped at her, bounding forward. In the midst of the shock and excitement, he almost face-planted on the floor, but Wonwoo grabbed his arm on time to pull him up.

Wonwoo clicked his tongue, an exasperated “Junhui!” following. But he was too preoccupied with the questions perched on the tip of his tongue to respond to Wonwoo.

“Where—”

Unfortunately, Freya Blodwen cut him off. “I can’t tell you much. She’s very weak, so I hid her somewhere safe. I’m afraid the only way you’ll see her again is once Krius no longer remains a threat to her.”

Pressing his hands to his face, Junhui felt a shiver rake through him. From the corner of his eye, he saw Wonwoo push the blanket over him, but he didn’t acknowledge the gesture with anything other than a grateful nod. The need to know the full story took precedence over everything else.

“How did you... Why are you helping us?”

She heaved a sigh; the action seemingly mirrored her exhaustion pertaining to the whole affair. “Despite common belief, Krius isn’t some powerful wizard or terrifying sea monster—he’s an imp, and he used to work for me, doing everything I asked of him. Eventually, by dint of watching and assisting, he came to understand how magic works. He asked to be taught, to become my apprentice, but I refused.

“While incredibly smart, Krius also had a knack for mischief and trouble, and I knew that if he had the means, he would do more harm than good. It wasn’t until much later that I realized he also possessed sadistic tendencies. To make a long story short, after continuous refusals, he took matters into his own hands.

“He stole one of my grimoires, self-teaching himself enough spells, and brewing necessary potions to harvest magic from outside forces to use as his own. One day, after mastering enough power and technique, he stowed away. It took me years to find him, and when I did, he had already created the Pact trapping Amarut Island. The damages were already done.

“With the stolen grimoire and the energy of the island protecting him, I couldn’t go against him on my own. Before I had a chance to contact your family, however, he had tricked Bora and her children, reversing their own spell to kill them. His strongest ability had always been that of cleverness and trickery, after all. With the stolen magic he accumulated, he became a respectable foe. I had to stay hidden, never able to reside on the island for more than a few days at a time, lest he realizes my presence.

“Because of that inconvenience, I was too late in gaining your mother’s help. By the time I returned to the town, he had already sent her off with your father’s family, knowing that given the opportunity, she would be able to destroy him, drawing her experience from the previous failed attempt. So rather than taking the chance of a sneak attack, he shipped her out.

“As luck would have it, thirty-five years later, thanks to the storm, he relocated the artifact to the lighthouse, which set forth the chain of events that you must be familiar with.”

Nodding as the puzzle pieces finally fell into place, Junhui wanted to know more. “How did you get my Mom’s notes?”

“I ran into Hayun after she got separated from Wonwoo and their friends one night, and I told her everything, asking for help. I assisted in her studies as much as I could, although limited. The night she was chased off the cliffs, everyone presumed she died, but she survived, barely.

“I took her to shelter, at which point she handed me all her notes and instructions. She expected me to continue where she left off, but of course, time and the risk of discovery didn’t allow me to.But I knew someone who could.” She turned her gaze to Wonwoo. “I sent you her coded journal, Wonwoo. I knew you wouldn’t be able to resist contacting Junhui. And now here we are.”

Wonwoo didn’t comment, and neither did Junhui.

The witchling wasn’t sure what to say. The whole catastrophe arose because of an imp seeking magic and power, probably fed up with serving his master. Part of Junhui was impressed by his ambition and success. Yet the other half of his brain was incredibly upset with Freya Blodwen for not preventing the disaster. She knew that Krius had dangerous tendencies, with an incredible mind, and she didn’t do anything to deter him from taking advantage of the resources. The enslavement of an entire island could have been prevented if she had been more responsible toward her assistant.

“I want to see my mom,” he stated.

She shook her head. “I can’t let you see her just yet.”

“Is she still on the island?”

“I can’t tell you, either.”

The frustration was getting too much. So far, Junhui had considered himself a pretty good sport, enduring all of these misadventures and emotional turmoil. Now though, his patience and optimism were quickly dwindling to nothing.

Freya Blodwen went on obliviously, not noticing the aggravation seeping through the surface. “Hayun is weak, but stable. You will reunite as soon as Krius is rendered powerless.”

“Why am I not surprised that one more person is using my mother to make me do what they want?” he muttered, gritting his teeth. She stated at the young witch, blinking. “Wonwoo used her as bait to get me to Amarut Island, the Kwons used her to guilt trip me into going home. And now you’re telling me that unless I solve _your_ pest problem, I’m never going to see her again?” The final question escaped his lips shriller than he expected, and he cleared his throat, breathing through his nose.

Next to him, Wonwoo shifted uncomfortably, scratching his brow as he sighed. Junhui wanted to calm down, but he was too riled up. His pulse raced, and his foot tapped restlessly.

Undeterred, Freya Blodwen straightened her back and drew her face into a strict expression.

“You have every reason to feel upset,” she granted, “However, Krius is not solely _my_ personalproblem. I am partly responsible for his actions, I admit, but if you want to focus your hate onto anyone it should be him, not me. I am not keeping your mother away from you out of spite or to force your hand; I’m protecting her from being found. The fact that you’ll only be able to see her after the rites are performed is merely a reality.”

The irritation lodged itself in his throat, caused by being addressed like a petulant child. Perhaps he was being difficult and ridiculous, but he didn't care. Every muscle in his body ached whenever he moved so much as a fraction of an inch, he probably had an ulcer from all the acid his stomach had been producing lately, and he had almost been killed several times over a period of twenty-four hours. That alone should be enough to justify his current mood. Add to that the crazy expectation that he could somehow play superhero.

The old witch gathered her skirt and stood up. Looking down at Junhui, she said evenly, “Take some time to cool off, then we’ll discuss things as adults.” With those parting words, she headed for the door and closed it softly behind her.

Groaning, Junhui pressed his hands over his face and kicked his feet under the blanket. His jaw ached from how much pressure he applied to keep the pained cries from spilling. Wonwoo didn’t need to know.

He felt the cot swing slightly as Wonwoo got up as well. Not telling him where he was going, he followed in the woman’s footsteps, leaving the witchling alone with his thoughts.

Junhui sat with his head buried under his hands for a long moment, just focusing on breathing in and out. Gradually his mind relaxed to allow reflection. As the thoughts and recent conversation bounced around in his head, he asked himself why he had gotten so angry that someone had planned out his next course of actions, when he had let it happen all his life. How was this any different from passively allowing his friends and family to make decisions for him?

Then it dawned on him. This was what Jeonghan tried to warn him against. He’d been fine with it all his life because none of the choices had been contrary to his beliefs and wants.Now for the first time, Junhui truly revolted at the decision made, at the fact that someone was using his weakness to impose themselves and force his hand to do what they wanted.

Logically, he knew that it was for the greater good; however, the son in him simply wanted to take his mother home. To say ‘to hell with the rest of them!’, to be selfish for once.

His shoulders sagged as he relented. Even if by some miracle he took Hayun home without going through with the plan, she would forever resent him for not doing the morally right thing. She risked her life for these people, and although she never expected it of him, Junhui felt a duty to them, too. After all, he was their only hope against Krius at this point.

“Goddammit, it sucks to be a sensible adult,” he muttered with his eyes closed, massaging his throbbing temples.

“Does that mean you are ready to discuss things properly?”

Junhui startled with a yelp. He opened his eyes to see Freya Blodwen standing by the door. She carried on her arm a basket full of wild leaves and moss. Putting the basket on the work bench, she took a seat and began to sort them.

“Well?” she prompted, not looking at him.

Junhui swallowed to erase the sharp tone, attempting to make his voice sound even rather than petulant. “I suppose, but I’m still not happy about it.”

Surprising him, she actually chuckled. “Yes, well, I doubt your mother would approve of my approach.” He stared at her. “When she handed me her research, she told me not to seek you out, but I couldn’t keep that promise. Not when I physically can’t stay on location for more than a few days for fear Krius might catch onto me. I know she wants to protect you, but we needed you.”

Junhui let it sink in for a moment, then wondered, “Why didn’t you come forward until now?”

“Because the timing wasn’t right. You needed to learn things at your own pace, make peace with the new information, learning to accept who you are.” She ground some red berries in with the moss as she spoke. “All I could do was guide you from afar. Besides, I knew you were in good hands.”

That made him frown, puzzled. How could she even think that when Wonwoo literally left him for dead yesterday? Sure, he came back. What would have happened if he hadn’t had a change of heart? And more questions arose.

If she just needed Wonwoo to contact Junhui and keep him safe until she showed up, why did she lead Wonwoo to him instead of rescuing the drowning witchling out of that river herself? How did she even know Wonwoo would come back? Furthermore, when she had first come into the hut, she asked if the two of them had talked about their differences yet, as if she was hoping that they would make up.

“Why did you tell Wonwoo where to find me instead of coming yourself?” he wanted to know.

She poured the crushed ingredients aside and continued to peel some ginger-like root. “Because you need to have a pure heart, unspoiled by anger and hatred, when you perform the spells. Had I not insured that the two of you get a chance to reconcile, then your powers would be useless against Krius. Only light magic can defeat him, and if wrath fuels your energy, then it ceases to be light magic.”

“So you made Wonwoo come back?” he asked, already on the verge of exasperation at the thought that she could have manipulated someone else as part of her multi-step plan to rein in her rebellious imp. He also feared the answer. He didn’t want Wonwoo to have returned because he was forced to.

Her answer put his qualms at ease, though. “No, my magic might be powerful, but even I can’t control another person without turning to the black arts. He’s had to make the choice himself.”

_Oh._

Junhui ignored the swirl of giddiness in his tummy.

“How did you know he would?”

Smiling faintly as if she knew some secret, she answered, “I had faith he’d come back for you. It took him a very long time, and an even worse decision to see it, but I think he now realizes that he wasn’t just waiting for someone to free him.” She paused and met the younger’s gaze. “He’s been waiting for you.”

His jaw hung open, unable to believe the words that flitted through his ears. Was she suggesting what he thought she was suggesting? That Jeon Wonwoo was in lo—No way. He cut the idea off before it even had a chance to fully express itself. He pressed his hands over his ears and rubbed the tips, willing the blood to cool off. Seeing his furrowed brows and pout, she chuckled.

“Why do you think he would throw away the chance to leave this cursed place forever and come back?”

He shrugged, tugging at his bottom lip as he stared at his feet. “Guilt. Wonwoo’s a good person.”

“True,” she allowed, “most people have regrets, but it takes a lot more than that to get them to give up their freedom.” She let him sit there to fidget with his sleeves for a minute to process, while she chopped the root, then added, “Guilt comes in various degrees. For the majority, the more you care, the more potent the remorse.” Finished with the chopping, she focused on him again. “Talk to him, Junhui. Hear him out. You’ll understand what I mean.”

He nodded, but didn’t voice further comments. Such as the fact that he did understand what she meant, he just didn’t want to believe it. He had enough on his plate now; he didn’t want to talk about feelings Wonwoo may or may not have for him. And he especially didn’t want to start bringing up his own feelings. Everything was complicated enough without all of that.

No, what interested him right now was figuring out the rest of Hayun’s instructions. Biting back a pained moan against the soreness in his legs, he shuffled to the bench and sat opposite her. He watched her work for a moment.

Opening his mouth to speak, he wondered, “What are you working on?”

She didn’t budge her gaze from the finely chopped root. “A new protection charm for you and Wonwoo.”

“Would you like some help?” His good manners (and somewhat gratefulness for her kind intention) got the better of his irritation.

“Wonwoo should be back with the purple capped mushrooms soon,” she said, “but if you could grind these cosmos seeds for me, it would be wonderful.” She put down the knife and handed him the small mortar and pestle. Then she poured the content of a small bag inside; it looked like flower seeds.

As he picked up the pestle, he asked, “How come you don’t use a similar spell to protect yourself and extend your stay on the island?”

She hummed, thoughtful. “Excellent question. I try to, but since Krius is so familiar with my particular color of magic, if he were to pay attention, he could easily pick up my trail. After that, it’ll only be a matter of time before he tracked it back to me.”

Junhui frowned pensively, taking his eyes off his task for a second. “Magic has color?”

“In a sense, yes. As you know, everything we create is individualized: a unique style. No two people have exactly the same handwriting, and the same could be said of the magic someone possesses. Every well trained witch or wizard can sense or see the color that accompanies it.” She scrapped the minced root into the small pot with the other herbs, and then commented, “Mine is a shade of orange, much like the honeysuckle flower.”

Now that she mentioned it, Junhui noticed the flowers plaited into her hair were in fact those very same orange flowers.

“I’ve always wondered,” she continued casually, “if my magic gained the color because I like the flower so much, or if I was attracted to them because of my particular magical signature. At any rate, they always seemed to pop up everywhere I went; or maybe it was the other way around,” she chuckled at her own ramblings.

When Junhui merely smiled, but didn’t probe for more, she asked, “Aren’t you curious to know what color yours is?”

He shrugged. “I don’t think I’ve practiced enough magic to have a particular color attached to it.”

“For a matter of fact, you do,” she revealed. “And it’s quite a beautiful red hue.”

“Red?” he echoed. “Why red?” He didn’t particularly like the color; neither did he find himself surrounded by it.

She smiled again, pouring out some clear liquid from a glass flask. “Red is warm, it symbolizes life, and is often associated with the will to survive. Red is a strong and powerful color, energizing and motivating, often leading to ambition and determination. Red is strong-willed and gives confidence in times when we are afraid.”

Looking up from her work, she fixed the young witch with a firm expression. “Red can also express anger, aggression, and fuel destruction.” She paused, and Junhui swallowed, unsure how to take in that information. “It’s also the color of love, as you must already know. You have a very powerful gift, Junhui.”

“I’m not really sure how well that fits me, though, I mean—”

The door cracked open again, and Wonwoo walked in, carrying a cloth bag, which he set on the table. He had a few leaves stuck to his hair, and some moss sprinkled over his hoodie, which he tried to dust off. Junhui’s eyes widened as he stared at him.

It certainly wasn’t the first time Junhui noticed it, but now it had a whole different meaning. The one thing about Wonwoo that had stood out to him from the very beginning, presently appeared to be glowing in the dimly lit hut: the red hoodie.

The more Junhui stared at it, the more Freya Blodwen’s description of the color red matched Wonwoo. Junhui might have genetically inherited his powers, but they never would have turned out this way without Wonwoo’s influence on him. _Holy shoot._ He wasn’t usually one to believe in fate or destiny, but this caused the gears in his head to spin double time.

Was Junhui already predisposed to those characteristics? Consequently, explaining why he was drawn to Wonwoo from the first moment he stepped foot in Serenity Port? Or was he simply a blank page until Wonwoo colored him in?

Any way Junhui wanted to look at the situation, he couldn’t deny that fate had somehow made itself known. Without Wonwoo, he never would’ve known of his potential or even attempted to explore it, for that matter. Whether Junhui had been predisposed, or if Wonwoo’s personality had bled through to him, Wonwoo’s comment to Mingyu suddenly became so relevant: _“He and I are a package deal_.” Junhui had needed him as much as Wonwoo had needed him. Without him, Junhui would technically have no magic.

Freya Blodwen’s wise voice cut through the musings. “The people and motivations surrounding us, when we are first exposed to magic, greatly influence our individualized traits.” Her eyes never left the pair as she spoke.

Rather curious, Wonwoo glanced from her to Junhui, but the latter looked away, too afraid Wonwoo might be able to read his thoughts and see the blush on his cheeks. Just because Junhui couldn’t stay mad at him anymore didn’t mean that Wonwoo had to know.

Wonwoo sat down on the other end of the bench. Junhui cleared his throat and aimed to change the subject. “Now that we’re all here, we should go over the game plan.”

Freya Blodwen turned on the Bunsen burner under the little cauldron, and then slowly dropped in purple mushrooms one by one.

“Indeed,” she agreed. “Now that everyone believes Wonwoo has left, we have a slight advantage on our side. Moreover, with this potion, you two should be immune to their tracking spells.” Stirring the pot with one hand, she pulled out two coins from her pocket and dropped them in. “Just make sure you don’t lose your coin. Like everything, there is power in numbers—the closer the coins are in proximity to one another, the more potent the spell. Additionally, you lose your coin, you lose the protection.”

The boys waited as she turned off the burner and levitated the coins out in the air to dry them with a gentle breeze. Afterward, she set them out on the table in front of them. With his index finger, Junhui nudged his coin gently to test the heat; it was still relatively warm. He glimpsed at Wonwoo without turning his body in the other’s direction to see him flipping the coin between his fingers idly.

A puff of orange smoke appeared out of the blue, startling the witchling, sweeping over the surface of the table. Several blinks later, he realized it was Freya Blodwen’s way of putting away her equipment. Even though he knew how to perform a few tasks, it was going to take some time before he can witness these magical feats with the same indifference as someone flipping a book open.

Speaking of books, though, Freya Blodwen summoned a handful of items: two of Hayun’s journals, a map, and three little pouches. A closer look at the map showed a few locations starred.

“You know where all of the Pillars are, correct?” she asked, pulling the map in between them.

“We do,” Wonwoo confirmed.

“Good,” she nodded. “Then I don’t need to go over that part.” Moving on, she pulled a ruler and marker out of thin air. “Krius chose those locations because they are the prime spots for the elements he needs. However, Hayun also figured out that those locations form a hexagram.”

She drew on the map, tracing the lines connecting the points with the black marker. Then she changed to a red marker, connecting the points opposite of each other. The result was a slightly skewed, red asterisk inside a black star.

“This point,” she tapped where all the red lines intersected in the center of the star. “This is where you have to perform the final spell to deactivate all the Pillars. Before you can do that,” She put the map away and pulled the journals over. “You will need to go to the Pillars Hayun couldn’t get to and finish the design. That will serve to bring the essence of the Pillars into a whole, enabling the final spell.” The pages of the first journal flipped to the last entry. “Hayun only managed to reverse three of the Pillars; you will have to write the rest.”

Swallowing, Junhui fidgeted. “I, uh, I don’t know how to write spells.”

“Reversal spells are easy,” she dismissed the nervousness. “Simply write the opposite of the original spell to the best of your ability.” He nodded, still unsure, but kept his ears open for the rest of her instructions. “Do you still have the special chalk?”

“It was in the backpack,” he answered, trying to recall what happened to it.

Expecting where his thoughts had gone, Wonwoo spoke up. “I found it by the shore, a couple miles up where we ended up.”

He got up and went to the cot. The backpack was tucked under it. As he came back with it, Junhui wanted to face-palm. Of course the backpack must have survived if Hayun’s journal was currently right under his nose. _Geez, was I still out of it._

Relieved, Junhui noticed that nothing in the bag was damaged beyond repair. The corners of the paper where the design was drawn suffered water damage from the rain, and it’d dried off with wrinkles and turned somewhat yellow, but the significant part of it was in great condition. Inside the box, only a few chalk sticks broke, and most got chipped; one of the maps they’d been using now looked like a crinkled chip, but it was no big loss.

“Perfect,” Freya Blodwen approved. Next, she picked up the little bags. “Here are the handfuls of dirt from the three Pillars Hayun visited. You'll have to collect the rest yourselves. I will leave the necessary ingredients and supplies at the site for you,” she tapped the center of the asterisk again. “All I’m asking of you is to set up the ritual according to Hayun’s directions in here.” She flipped open the new notebook, and Junhui noted that the pages were filled with Hayun’s handwriting. He supposed she had no opportunity to encrypt it. The old witch continued, “I will meet you there and execute the trapping spell.”

“So I don’t have to do it?” he asked, confused. After all this talk of it having to be him, now Junhui was just supposed to set it up? Wonwoo could’ve done it by himself, in that case, since no magic was necessary.

“Of course you do!” she insisted, which prompted even further confusion.

Did losing consciousness cause him to lose that many brain cells?

“There are two parts to the ritual. The first involves reversing the polarity of the Pillars to cut off Krius’ powers, which you will do. Undoubtedly, it will lead him to investigate, and that is how we are going to draw him out. Once he arrives, I will capture him and change him back to the tiny imp that he is. You will have to distract him while I do, because although he won’t be able to draw more power from the Pillars, he will still have a certain amount stocked within him.”

“So if we manage to get there the day before his banquet,” Wonwoo commented, “He won’t pose as much of a threat. His supply, after the shutoff, would be practically empty.”

“Exactly.”

Chewing on his bottom lip, Junhui questioned his abilities to follow the plan the way they expected. So far, every time he’d used his magic against outside forces, he’d done it in self-defense, in a moment of pure panic. Now he might not know much, but he was pretty sure that performing that sort of ritual required a composed and even-tempered, mature witch. He was nothing like that when it came to casting spells—sporadic and impulsive, much more likely.

Wonwoo might have pulled him out of the raging river, but he was still drowning.

Freya Blodwen and Wonwoo finished the conversation with the traveling logistics, which Junhui knew nothing about, so he didn’t make any contributions.

Instead, during those few minutes, he scanned the new notes and puffed out his cheeks. Hayun had copied down cryptic directions for the ritual called, S _evering the Link between Caster and Nature._ As the title spoke for itself, since Krius is using nature as his magic supply, it’d make sense to cut off his access. She made a mental note to rewrite the incantation to a better fitted one, more suitable to Krius. Junhui skipped the instructions for trapping him, since Freya already volunteered to do it.

His eyes wandered further down the page, and he let go of a breath. The words written on there—he could read them, he could understand them, but when strung together as sentences, he couldn’t make sense of them.

What did ‘extract the colors of the rainbow’, ‘pluck the stars from the sky’, ‘wave hello to the moon’, ‘set the compass rose on fire,’ mean?

At one point, he even expected to see ‘draw with the colors of the wind’ somewhere in there. At least with that, he thought wryly, he had the pictures of the Disney movie to refer back to. How in the world was he supposed to follow instructions when he didn’t even understand them? Under a time-limit, no less.

“Are you all right?” Wonwoo’s voice jolted him, and he almost dropped the book. Junhui blinked, looking around. They were alone. Freya Blodwen’s seat had been vacated without his notice. Wonwoo wore a worried expression, his brows furrowed partly. “You’ve been staring at that page for at least five minutes without moving.”

“I’m fine,” he answered, covering his face with his hands. “Where did she go?”

“She didn’t say,” Wonwoo answered in a leveled tone. He shifted, and Junhui glanced over to see him pull something out of his pocket. The familiar white scarf came into view as he nudged it toward its proper owner. For some reason, it made Junhui think of a peace offering between kids after a fight. “Before I forget,” he said softly.

Junhui’s fingers tangled in the folds. “Thanks. How’s your hand?” he tried to spy the cuts, but Wonwoo deftly tugged the red sleeve over his hand and hid it under the table. Junhui pouted.

“Just fine.” Meeting his gaze, Wonwoo asked, “So where do we stand?”

From the way his dark eyes softened as he stared into his, Junhui knew he wasn’t talking about their rescue mission. It was difficult to stay mad at him when Wonwoo gazed at him that way, taking into account his sacrifice for him, thinking about what Freya Blodwen claimed. At the same time, Junhui couldn’t get rid of the hurt and fear he’d suffered when Wonwoo left him on that mountain. Not yet, at least.

“I don’t know,” he replied honestly. “I guess we can go back to being simple professional associates.”

His expression fell, and Wonwoo nodded. “Yeah, that sounds best.”

As if he had just flicked on a switch, the steely Wonwoo Junhui had met on the first day returned. He pulled the map closer to him and studied it, no longer minding the witchling. Junhui wasn’t sure how he felt about Wonwoo’s apparent ease at disregarding their friendship just like that. But then he quickly ignored it. They best keep their heads cool for the rest of the trip if they wanted to come out alive and victorious.

Blowing the strands of hair out of his eyes, Junhui flipped through the journal, trying to make sense of it. Not able to understand something he was supposed to drove him insane. It brought him back to those painful nights trying to grasp physics and calculus concepts. The tears of frustration threatened to overflow now, reducing him to that little kid who desperately wanted to please his parents by succeeding in the field they chose for him.

This time was different. He wasn’t trying to please someone else. Wonwoo obviously sent him the letter, but Junhui made the choice of coming, he made the choice of following him that early morning, and he made the choice to stay to the end. Yes, Junhui blamed other people for pressuring him and using his mother to manipulate him, but he only had himself to hold responsible for his actions. This time, the frustration was directed at his own self because he couldn’t live up to his expectations.

His frantic foot tapping gained a side-glance from his neighbor, but no audible comment. Wonwoo truly did go back to his No Speaking Unless Necessary policy. Junhui closed the journal, knowing he was going nowhere with it for now. There was more useful things he could do at present, such as getting a better grip on his powers.

Let’s just say that telekinesis and his defense mechanism were moderately adequate for now. He needed to learn how to conjure up objects. That would prove extremely useful on the road for supplies and food. Although he was positive some kind of limit and restrictions existed to prevent witches and wizards from _poofing_ up gold and whatnot, destroying the current economy. Could that be why they were in a recession? Shaking his head at his silly notions, Junhui concentrated on the matter at hand.

Before he attempted to make objects pop up right and left, he thought it would be more reasonable to start by displacing items from one place to another. Better start with something small. He pulled out one of the pieces of chalk from its container and placed it at the other end of the table. Even while he didn’t really look, he knew Wonwoo had glanced up from his note-taking to gauge what he was doing.

Junhui sat back down and stared at the chalk, willing it to move through space and reappear in front of him. Relaxing his shoulders, he closed his eyes and breathed out. Channeling his powers came easier to him now; his fingertips tingled, and he had to fight the urge to simply pull the chalk to him. Visualizing the results seemed to have worked in the past, so he tried that. When nothing felt different, he cracked open one eye.

The chalk still sat in front of Wonwoo. Frowning, Junhui closed his eyes and gave it another go, this time recalling his first ever exposure to magic. Mr. Shupe had said to always keep in mind why he was performing magic. Therefore, as he continued to visualize the chalk popping up where he wanted it, he thought about the reasons.

 _A.) To practice my magic._ He cracked open one eye: nothing, the chalk still hadn’t moved.

 _B.) To ultimately see Mom and go home._ Z _ilch!_ All he got was a weird look from Wonwoo.

Fine.

_C.)To not embarrass myself in front of Wonwoo, to show him I can actually do something useful._

Opening his eyes, the chalk immediately _poofed_ away and reappeared on his side of the table. _You’ve got to be kidding me_. Scoffing out a dry laugh, he picked it up. Well, guess he had his answer: his magic reacted best to Wonwoo, resulting in his magical identity. His magical color was red because of him. _Figures._

Junhui tried the trick a few more times, zapping the chalk from his end to Wonwoo’s, back and forth, giggling to himself at the success and ease. After watching the practice for a couple minutes, Wonwoo lost interest. Junhui put away the chalk and scanned the room for something else a little larger. A broom leaned in the corner, and he decided to try to warp it to the back of the hut.

As he shifted on the bench, he felt Wonwoo’s gaze follow the movements, probably to prepare in case Junhui flailed and potentially hurt himself. Again. Squaring his shoulders, Junhui kept Wonwoo’s scrutiny in mind and got to work. The handle of the broom hitting the back wall caused his eyes to snap open excitedly. _It worked!_

Now for the final test: make food appear. Although dry, he still shivered from the chilly weather. Some hot soup would surely warm him and Wonwoo up. Junhui imagined a bowl of spicy vegetable soup, the kind Hayun used to cook during rainy days. His imagination was so vibrant, he could almost smell it. Maybe hunger worked as a great motivator, because before he knew it, a hot ceramic bowl materialized in front of his partner.

“Whoa,” Junhui gasped, “I did it!”

“How did you do that?” Wonwoo asked next to him, in awe.

With pride, he grinned. “I used my magic. God, this smells good! Gimme a second, I’ll poof up another one.”

“Don’t,” he protested before Junhui could move. His eyes hardened as he studied the steaming bowl as if it were plate of sashimi, apparently not pleased with its presence at all.

“What’s wrong? I thought you liked spicy veggie soup.”

“By whatever means, return it,” Wonwoo said, “Even with magic, you can’t just create something that hasn’t already been made. This bowl belongs to someone, and you just stole it from them.”

“What?”

“You have the power to displace objects, not to instantly pop them into existence,” he explained. “Send this food back to its owner.”

“What’s the big deal?” Junhui wanted to know. “We’re miles away from civilization. It’s not like anyone’s gonna file a complaint. I’m starving, and I’m sure you are, too.”

“Stealing is stealing,” he insisted, which astonished Junhui into silence. As he’d already seen, Wonwoo wasn’t exactly Mr. Dutiful Citizen. Why was he so on the up and up about Junhui allegedly stealing a couple bowls of soup?

Seeing him so put out by it, Junhui reluctantly returned the soup to where it came from. “What is that about?” he asked again, but Wonwoo shook his head, turning away.

“Nothing.” He folded the map and his notes up, stuffing both into his back pocket as he got to his feet. “I’ll go find us something to eat.” Not giving the witchling anything else aside from telling him to stay seated lest he hurt himself, he walked out and closed the door behind him.

After Wonwoo left, and Junhui sat alone on the cot with the covers pulled around himself, he wondered if Wonwoo would’ve shared more if they had remained friends. The evasion reminded him of the time Junhui tried to ask him what his ‘treasure’ was—the reason Wonwoo signed the Pact in the first place. The only conclusion Junhui could draw was that both pertained to some painful memory Wonwoo didn’t wish to revisit.

The two didn’t get a chance to discuss it further, as Freya Blodwen returned not long afterward with Wonwoo in tow. She carried in some provisions for them and reiterated her instructions. The rest of the evening was thankfully uneventful as she fed the boys some soup and handed Wonwoo a sleeping bag.

Junhui went to sleep that night with renewed hope, and he thanked the universe for keeping his mother alive. He shifted to his side and looked down at the boy sleeping on the floor next to him. The fire burned low, so most of Wonwoo’s face was hidden. But still, Junhui gazed at his profile and let out a soft sigh.

While Junhui will never admit it out loud, he felt unbelievably grateful for Wonwoo coming back. Even without Freya Blodwen’s comments, Junhui recognized the sacrifice Wonwoo made for him. Of what that action signified.

His heart stirred, and he bit his lip, hand reaching to clutch at his shirt.

He had no idea what the future held for them, if they’ll even make it out alive. But one thing was for sure, he and Wonwoo were together again. And that ought to count for something.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So red, eh? Should I cue T.Swift's "Red"? lol. Now the tag "WonHui are THE power couple" makes sense, right? 
> 
> But omj, wonhui are so bad at feelings, this is driving me insane... \\(>⌓<)/ Just kiss and make up already!
> 
> As for Krius... lololol. Mr. Big Scary Squid is actually a puny imp. womp womp womp... That explains the need to compensate with a huge castle and evil rampage (¬_¬)
> 
> Any thoughts on Freya Blodwen? On what she did and what's doing now? 
> 
> As always, thank you for reading! ^_^  
> xoxoxo
> 
> P.S.: i keep forgetting to include this after every chapter. but i do have a [Curious Cat](https://curiouscat.me/Swanny_Writer) if you guys want to drop random questions :D


	19. Things Changed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WonHui get into a fight, and then go spelunking. Oh, and Jun gets attacked by feels (among other things).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It is a long time coming, but we finally get _some_ fluff. Freakin' finally (¬_¬) God lord, wonhui sure are taking their sweet ass time... (also allow me a second to contemplate the irony of my complaints about not enough fluff in this fic, while i complain about too much cheese in the others. sorry, i am inconsistent... but you already knew that so XD)
> 
> Warning for mild violence and blood.
> 
> -

 

 

Early morning, bird calls pulled Junhui out of sleep. He stretched, lifting heavy eyelids, and realized with a start that he sat in the middle of an open field. _What in the world?_ He looked down. The cot and blankets from last night still surrounded him, but the shack had vanished along with any sign of Freya Blodwen. Next to him, the fireplace had been reduced to a dying campfire. A couple feet away from the cot, Wonwoo laid curled up in a sleeping bag.

For a few seconds, Junhui wondered if he had truly woken up yet. He rubbed his eyes, waiting for things to make sense. Unfortunately, when nothing changed, he had to accept the fact that Freya Blodwen left without so much as a goodbye. You’d think she would have the decency to leave behind the shack, instead of stripping him and Wonwoo of shelter. Thank goodness it hadn’t rained, or they’d be drenched and frozen by now.

Her sudden departure didn’t exactly make Junhui like her more. Aside from providing them information (more like assigning them homework, he grumbled to himself), a new protection spell, and some provisions, she basically shoved them back on the road. Not so much as a ‘good luck’ given. Junhui pouted.

He wondered what time it was as he peeked inside the provisions bag now. He pushed away the dried foods and fruits to see some clean towels and a pocket knife. There was also a little jar of some strange salve at the bottom of the bag. When he opened the lid and sniffed carefully, it smelled like ginger. Figuring it was some sort of homemade magical cream, he put it away. He grabbed one of the hand towels and walked over to the water bucket set next to the fire pit. He dipped the cloth into the water. Thanks to its proximity to the flames, his fingers didn't fall off from the icy temperature, but it was a far cry from comfortable. Gritting his teeth, he quickly washed up.

Wonwoo stirred himself awake not long afterward. He opened his eyes, sitting up on his elbows to study the field. A look of confusion crossed his expression before his eyes found the other boy’s. The latter gave him a shrug and head shake to indicate his confusion as well.

Sighing, Wonwoo pushed himself out of the sleeping bag and ran a hand through his unruly hair. As he did so, Junhui bit the inside of his cheek to stifle a giggle. A small tuff of dark hair remained upright after his rough combing, creating an amusing dichotomy between his bed-head look and the usual roguish scowl on his handsome features. His eyes were still squinted from the morning light and pull of slumber, and he yawned. With rumpled clothes, messy hair, and expression softened by sleep, he looked, well, _cute_.

Junhui ducked his head and quietly giggled to himself.

After Wonwoo returned from the nearby stream to wash up and collect water for their canteens, the pair sat on the cot and began discussing the travel plans around hot coffee and biscuits.

“This is where we are,” Wonwoo informed him, circling a spot on the wrinkled map with his fingertip. “The fastest and safest way out of the region is through this little passage in the mountain range behind us.”

Leaning over him, Junhui squinted his eyes in order to make out the tiny and faded writing. “Widow’s Pass?” he read off of the page. “Why can’t we take this road?” He pointed, glancing up at his partner's face. “You know, the one without the foreboding name.”

With an eye roll, Wonwoo explained in a monotone. “Because it gets heavy foot traffic. Merchants, civilians, guards. They all take it to cross from one side of the Elsian Peaks to the other.”

Junhui considered it for a second. “Freya Blodwen gave us the coins. What’s the point of having a protection spell if you’re not going to take advantage of it?”

“Magic comes with dozens of loopholes.” By the slight rise in his tone, Junhui recognized the sign of his patience running low. “We’re not going to risk it. You should never depend entirely on magic, especially someone else’s. If we go through the mountains, we’ll be left alone, and it’s all that matters.” The finality in his tone would have shut the witchling up in the past, but Junhui couldn’t keep quiet and follow him blindly this time. Wonwoo wanted to risk their lives taking a deadly path without any safety equipment. Someone had to talk some sense into him.

“Without any hiking or rock climbing gear, we might as well take a chance on the main road,” Junhui suggested. “One false step would be all it takes to kill us.”

Peeved, Wonwoo creased the map and pocked it. “Would you just trust me on this? I know what I’m doing. We are much more likely to be seen on the main road than we are to die in the crevices.”

“Excuse me for not finding comfort in the thought,” Junhui muttered, pursing his lips. “Why is it called Widow’s Pass, anyway?”

Resting his elbows on his knees, Wonwoo turned to him. “The caves turned many women into widows back in the day.”

“And that doesn’t ring any warning bells?” His eyes widened, arms flailing in the air.

Sighing in exasperation, Wonwoo dropped his head. “Those men were drunk half of the time. And when sober, they were too busy trying to sabotage or kill each other for land to watch where the holes and crevices were in the dark.”

“Oh, great,” Junhui said under his breath. “So you would rather risk your life in dark and scary caves than trust _magical_ coins to work? I don’t know what’s crazier, your plan or your reasoning.”

Side-eyeing him, Wonwoo commented, “I miss the days you didn’t question my judgment every two seconds.”

“Gee, I wonder what happened to change that.” He crossed his arms and turned away swiftly.

Wonwoo heaved a sigh, jumping to his feet to stare down at the sulking boy. “How long are you going to hold that over my head?” he grumbled, exasperated.

Deflating, his shoulders slumped, and he chewed on his lip. Honestly, Junhui hadn’t meant to start fighting with him; the quip just escaped on its own volition. He had no answer to give him, though. The conflicting emotions still lingered, and that caused his lousy mood. He wasn’t good at dealing with this sort of thing. He’d always been better off just swallowing it all down and forgetting. Junhui frowned, burying his face into his folded arms, refusing to look at him. Refusing to face the confrontation.

Wonwoo sighed again, now more irritated than angry. He rubbed his face, lifting it to the sky. “What exactly do you want from me, Junhui?” he wanted to know, voice barely above a whisper.

Although Junhui didn’t look at him directly, he could still see him from the corner of his eye. The sides of his mouth tugged downward, his eyes dull. He looked so defeated, and Junhui felt a pang in his chest knowing he was the cause of Wonwoo’s exhaustion.

“Do I have to get down on my knees and beg for forgiveness? Or should I bite off my fingertip and write out an apology in blood?”

The thought alone was enough to cause him to cry out, “No!”

But Wonwoo went on as if he hadn’t interrupted. “Yes, I was wrong and selfish. Yes, I was a fucking imbecile for listening to Chan. Stay pissed at me for as long as you please. Just remember that my life is in as much danger as yours, if not more. Krius wants you alive, and right now, I’m an obstacle he can easily eliminate. You don’t have to like me or my plans, but you have to trust me.”

It was like being thrown in the river all over again. The icy jolt shot down his spine and Junhui shivered. His eyes snapped to Wonwoo’s, brows furrowed. “I don’t have to like you?” he repeated, baffled that Wonwoo would say such a ridiculous statement.

Where did that idea even come from? Junhui didn’t want to waste energy staying mad at someone he didn’t like. How much he _did_ like him was the reason why this entire mess hurt so much.

“No, you don’t.” Wonwoo shook his head, turning his back to him. “Hate me to your heart’s content!”

“Is that what you really think?” He stared up at Wonwoo with parted lips, blinking rapidly.

The other shrugged, continuing to his sleeping bag, and knelt down to roll it up.

“So you gave up your freedom for someone who doesn’t like you,” Junhui stated, trying to point out how ridiculous that sounded.

Wonwoo answered nonchalantly, tugging the strings on the bag with more force than necessary. “Apparently.”

The witchling wanted to stomp his feet and scream. Instead, he took in a deep breath. He can be an adult about this. “Why would you do that?”

“Guilt.”

Even though that had been the same answer Junhui had given Freya Blodwen when they'd discussed the topic, to hear Wonwoo say it now didn't sit well with him. Not after what the witch had revealed about his magic and how it came to be the way it was. He was still very much uncertain, with muddled thoughts and emotions. Hence the reason he wanted to push Wonwoo say more. To maybe help him come to terms with whatever it was that connected the two of them together.

Uncaring that Wonwoo couldn’t see it, he still threw him an unimpressed look. “Since when did that stop you? If I recall, it was one of the very reasons you wanted to _leave_ the island.”

“Yeah, well, things changed.” Wonwoo stood up, holding the rolled bag under his arm.

By the cot, he reviewed the items in the backpack Junhui had been carrying and in the provisions bag. To evaluate their respective weights, Wonwoo lifted them one by one. Deciding on the provisions being the heftier one, he shoved their canteens in and swung the bag over his shoulder.

Why was he still so stingy with his words? Nevertheless, Junhui felt a tingle of hope from the cryptic statement.

The latter tugged at his bottom lip, gaze intent on Wonwoo’s sneakers. “I don’t _dislike_ you,” he admitted in a mumble. “And I certainly don’t hate you.”

A slight, barely discernible, shift rippled through Wonwoo’s tall frame as he exhaled. His deep voice sounded more calm as he spoke. “That’s good to know. Now if you could please just listen to me, I would be ecstatic.”

Junhui made a face as he glanced up. “Your sarcasm can be so infuriating, you know that?”

“Makes up for your brattiness,” he shot back with just the hint of a smirk.

Immediately, the witchling huffed and looked away, pretending his heart didn’t just skip several beats. “I am not bratty.”

Wonwoo snorted. “Right.”

Junhui stuck his tongue out behind his back, then instantly floundered when his partner turned around with a knowing look. The former feigned a yawn. By the eye roll, Wonwoo didn’t buy it at all.

“Now as long as we’re together, we’re traveling my way. Clear?”

Puffing out his cheeks, Junhui swallowed the retort. It was time to grow up and suck it up. So he nodded with as much enthusiasm as a sulking child. “Clear, sir.” He mocked a salute with two fingers.

Wonwoo shot him a look, smirk evident now. He didn’t even have time to react to it, because Wonwoo added, “See, being a good boy suits you much better.”

Cheeks aflame, Junhui whipped around and yanked the hood over his head, pressing his hands over his face for good measure. Still, though, he couldn’t stop smiling when he heard the low chuckles from behind him. _God, I’m hopeless._

Turning a few degrees, he could spot Wonwoo reaching over to take the blankets from the cot and begin folding them for the road. As he did, Junhui cast a regretful glance at the cot. If it weren’t so bulky, he wished they could’ve carried it with them. Taking turns, it beat sleeping on the freezing ground. Or they could even share it. 

_Wait, what?_  

_Stop it, heart!_

Keeping his distance lest Wonwoo could see his burning face, Junhui helped clean up and put their things away. With some effort, they managed to undo the tarp from the metal frame of the cot. Junhui slid the thick cloth through the sleeping bag’s straps, and Wonwoo dismantled the frame.

Suddenly, his hands stilled.

“What’s wrong?” Junhui asked, feeling his stomach quiver at the sudden change.

Wonwoo shot to his feet, sharply spinning his head side to side. “Someone’s here,” he whispered, immediately grabbing the boy’s wrist to pull Junhui behind him.

An icy chill shot down the witchling’s spine, eyes darting around them for any suspicious movements.

Having lost the element of surprise, the enemy emerged from the shrubs behind the pair. Junhui whipped around and screamed.

“Wonwoo!”

The two barely had time to react to the shuffling of leaves that the brute lunged at them. Wonwoo pushed Junhui out of the way. A second later, the bald giant charged forward and tackled Wonwoo to the ground.

“Wonwoo!” Junhui gathered his feet under him and jumped up to run back toward the struggling duo, but a gasp overtook him halfway.

The mercenary, too tall and too fast, had Wonwoo at his mercy. Repeatedly, he punched and hit him, leaving no room for the latter to dodge or block the attack. He was already bleeding.

With a shout, Junhui used his powers to shove the attacker sideway, allowing Wonwoo time to stand up and punch and kick him right back. The monstrous brute took the hits like a punching bag. No way Wonwoo had enough strength to keep up; one shove alone had Junhui panting from exertion. The brute couldn’t be human.

Junhui lifted a hand to yank him down to the ground and keep him there for Wonwoo to hit, but out of nowhere, a larger figure snuck up on the witchling.

With a startled gasp, Junhui backed away, eyes turning into saucers. This second monster was a bulkier and taller version of the mercenary who attacked them in Glida Heigh. Red goo leaked out of his eye sockets, made all the more stark by the translucent paleness of his skin. His nostrils flared. The stitches keeping the corners of his mouth shut popped free, tearing at his flesh. Blood-curling howls of agony seeped out as a result, faltering the permanent grin on his ghastly face.

His arm already in the air, the witchling sent the cot behind him crashing into the monster. He staggered backward, grunting and snorting. Immediately, Junhui sought something else more heavy to knock him out.

A shout and bodies skidding in the dirt interrupted the frantic search.

His eyes flashed to the left. Wonwoo had kicked his assailant down momentarily, leaving both parties bloody and panting. The reprieve was short lived. The brute sprung to his feet and flipped Wonwoo over, vulnerable to further assault. Right away, the giant pinned him down with his foot. Wonwoo clawed and pushed to no avail against the weight crushing his throat.

_No!_

A large rock sat just out of Wonwoo’s reach. Junhui strained his hand to lift it. He aimed it at the attacker and flicked his wrist. The rock flew forward, but dropped halfway.

_What the—_

The target shifted his attention from the rock to the witchling. Gritting his teeth, he flung his arm out. In an instant, Junhui flew in the air and crashed in the grass, rolling several feet before coming to a stop. Stars and colored dots circled his vision as Junhui fought the disorientation and pain to get up.

“Wonwoo,” he breathed, blinking to focus his blurry vision.

“He... can’t... help... you... now,” Stitched-faced growled, pawing the boy’s shoulder.

Junhui whipped around, dislodging his hold. As he ducked to get away, the monster quickly grabbed him, catching a handful of his jacket. He tugged the boy back toward him, hard. The boy skidded through the grass and dirt like a rag doll. Coughing and struggling, Junhui unzipped the extra layer and slipped out, escaping his captor’s grasp. While the giant leaned over to try again, Junhui kicked, aiming for his temple.

An enormous hand caught his foot in midair. In the next second, he yanked the boy up. Junhui shrieked. His back and elbows hit the ground, radiating pain throughout his body, incapacitating him on the spot. Woozy, Junhui hardly registered that his head dangled three feet in the air.

“Too... bad... Krius wants... you... alive...” the monster snarled at him. All the thread had now come undone, and huge, yellow toothpick-like fangs poked out, puncturing his lips and cheeks from the inside.

Junhui whimpered, kicking and flailing to get away from the horrific face. Even though he knew falling now would hurt like hell, he couldn’t help wiggling, swinging his free leg left and right, trying to hit the monster. Junhui waved his arms, twisted his body, kicked and punched, but nothing worked. The giant held the boy’s ankle in his hand like a vice.

He began to walk with his victim still hanging upside down. “Kill… him...” he growled to his demonic partner, “We... go.”

With everything turned upside down, Junhui couldn’t get his bearing. The blood pooled to his head, making him dizzy. He twisted, straining to see Wonwoo. The moment he did, Junhui instantly regretted it. Wonwoo had pushed himself on all fours to get up, but the monster kneed him in the stomach. Blood flew out of his mouth.

“No! Please stop! Don't hurt him!”

Junhui desperately tried to hurl objects at either monster, but he couldn’t channel his magic. No matter what he tried or how hard he concentrated, nothing worked. He blinked and wiped the tears away, keeping his eyes unobstructed as he stared at his ankle in his captor’s grip.

The latter’s hold on him must be the reason, Junhui realized. As long as he touched the boy, he blocked the witchling’s powers. Without any weapon handy, Junhui had no chance of getting away. Frantically, he patted his pockets for anything at all, and the movement caused the chain around his forearm to smack against his ribs. Wearing a coat all the time, Junhui had completely forgotten Hayun’s necklace tied around his wrist. With trembling fingers, Junhui loosened the chain and twirled it around his index.

A surprised gasp, followed by a grunt as a body slammed onto the ground, caught his attention. He whipped his head toward the sounds.

By some miracle, Wonwoo had broken free of his attacker’s hold, and he used the reprieve to kick the latter flat on his back. Hardly had Wonwoo had time to breathe that he frantically ran in Junhui’s direction. The monster swung out an arm, but hindered by the boy caught in his grasp, he missed, and Wonwoo managed to leap out of the way. The victory was short-lived, however. The first assassin jumped back on his feet and pulled out a dagger from his belt.

“Wonwoo! Watch out!” Junhui shouted.

Wonwoo turned around just in time to dodge the swing.

Everything in the next instant blurred together. No longer thinking straight, Junhui gripped the brute’s coat with both hands. Using it as leverage, he heaved himself up and plunged the stone pendant into his eye socket.

He screamed in pain, releasing the boy’s ankle. Junhui crumbled to the ground with a yelp. His ears buzzed, and his vision was blurry, but he could see Wonwoo’s attacker grabbing him by the throat, and shoving the dagger toward his heart. Wonwoo blocked the attack mere inches away from his chest, but in his weakened state, Wonwoo wouldn’t be able to hold that arm away from him for much longer.

Right at that moment, the second giant stalked over to Junhui; he had yanked the necklace out of his blood-oozing eye.

Just a short distance behind the monster laid the dying campfire. The moment the idea crossed his mind, red and orange flames flared up from the ambers. The witchling swept his hand in the air. All the flaming branches and burning rocks flew at the back of the monster’s head, catching fire as they made contact with his shoulders.

Crying out in shock and agony, he doubled over. The fire took on a life of its own, consuming his clothing and flesh. He quickly became a column of fire, maddeningly running in circles. The screeches and roars of the monster flooded the field. Junhui covered his ears, unable to withstand the piercing screech of a dying creature. The giant tore at his arms and legs, desperate to escape the burning flames.

Wonwoo’s assailant, witnessing the attack, halted in bewilderment. The small distraction was all it took to allow Wonwoo to kick his feet from under him. The savage mercenary lost his balance and fell back. Wonwoo pulled the dagger out of his grip and shoved it into his chest. A gurgling sound bubbled out of his throat as his eyes froze in their widened state.

The burning man fell to his knees, writhing in pain. Only his final wails could overpower the distinct crackling of the fire. Junhui covered his face, but the image had already burned itself into his brain.

Eventually, his cries died out, and the only thing Junhui could hear was his own labored breathing. His heartbeat pounded so loudly in hi ears, he could hardly hear anything else. Slowly, he regained feeling in his limbs.

_Wonwoo._

Kneeling, he swept his gaze over the field, searching for the familiar red hoodie.

“No, no, no...” he chanted, gritting his teeth against the stinging injuries to stand up.

He ran across the clearing toward the unmoving figure sprawled on the damp grass, covered in brown and red stains. The body of Krius’ mercenary stretched out a few feet away, his terrifying scowl permanently a part of his features now. Not giving it more than a cursory glance as he moved closer, he prayed with all his might that Wonwoo had merely passed out.

Tripping over his own feet, Junhui crashed by his body. “Wonwoo!” he shouted, shaking him by the collar of his jacket. There was blood everywhere, making it impossible to tell whose it belonged to, if Wonwoo had suffered any significant blow that Junhui couldn't see. “Wonwoo!” He didn't dare move him too much, fearing worsening the wounds. But the helplessness and panic rose quickly, and his hands trembled uncontrollably. “Don’t you dare leave me again! Please! Wake up!” No movement. His body laid limp like dead weight. Desperate, Junhui pressed shaky and numb fingers on his neck. Nothing.

_Why can't I feel his pulse?_

The dam in him broke; tears poured out without restraint. Still gripping his hoodie, Junhui slumped over his chest, willing his heart to work. All he could think about during those few seconds of eerie silence, was how he wished Wonwoo had never returned for him.

“You can’t leave me like this,” he whispered hoarsely into the dirty red cotton. “You can’t just… You finally came back, and now you’re…” He was choking. He couldn’t breathe. The metallic smell of blood was overwhelming. “Please, Wonwon. I need you.”

Gripping the red hoodie into his bloodied palms, he sobbed, tainting Wonwoo’s soiled shirt with tears.

Soft, hesitant heartbeats tapped against his ear.

Junhui snapped his eyes wide open, gasp lodged in his throat. There was no mistaking it. Heartbeats. Wonwoo's heartbeats.

Gentle fingers threaded through his hair shortly after his brain made the connection. He sucked in a breath.

“Junhui,” a deep and warm voice called.

The witchling bounded upright, staring down at his unmoving partner through the tears. “Wonwoo?”

Groaning, Wonwoo fluttered his eyes open, and Junhui helped him sit up. As soon as he did, Junhui flung his arms around the other’s neck and hugged him. The sharp intake of air reminded him of his injuries, so Junhui released his death-grip on him without actually letting go. He scooted closer.

“Are you okay?” Wonwoo whispered by his ear, leaning some of his weight on the healthier of the pair, arms wrapped around him. His voice sounded like broken glass, and Junhui’s heart squeezed painfully tight.

“Oh, god,” he breathed, nestling in the crook of Wonwoo’s shoulder, fingers clenching the fabric of his hoodie. “I thought... I thought you were dead.”

He chuckled. He actually chuckled. If Junhui weren’t so relieved, he’d hit him. “It’d take more than that to kill me, moonlight.”

“It’s not funny! I was really scared and—”

“Shhh,” Wonwoo hushed softly, cradling the boy’s head. “It’s okay. I’m sorry. We’re all right. Don’t cry, kitten.”

Junhui sniffled, nodding. “But look at you.” Pulling away, he stared at his battered face, and the tears began to fall again.

Starting from the top of Wonwoo’s head, a wide gash cut across his left eyebrow, and that corresponding eye was red and swollen, which would most likely turn blue by tomorrow, much like the spots on his cheeks. Junhui looked at his split lip, moving on to note the faint bruises forming on his clavicles. It would be a miracle if he didn’t end up with some kind of internal damage. And he hadn't even seen all of the cuts and gashes on his torso yet. 

“I am so sorry,” Junhui cried out. “I should have acted faster. I could have avoided this. If I had—”

“Hey, hey.” Wonwoo scooted closer and pressed his thumbs under the hysterical boy’s eyes. “Moonlight, look at me.” When Junhui did, Wonwoo gently wiped the tears away, smiling faintly. “Don’t worry. I’ve had worse, trust me.” Punctuating his statement with a laugh, Wonwoo pulled him back in his embrace and rocked them back and forth gently. “Just breathe, okay?”

“I’m sorry, I’m just...” Junhui sniffled, hugging him closer like he might disappear otherwise.

There was something so raw and frightening about unrestrained battery as opposed to guns and explosions that always shook him to the core. He'd always avoided movies and tv shows with that kind of unrestrained violence. The anger and fury that fueled the blows seemed to constrict his airways and physically hurt him. Now to actually witness someone he cared about getting submitted to that kind of beating simply destroyed his mental state and shattered his heart.

Junhui scooted closer and nuzzled into the crook of Wonwoo's shoulder, only appeased when he felt the arms around him tighten along with the soft comforting whispers by his ear.

The pair sat like this for a while longer. Enough time for Junhui to come to terms with what happened, to reassure himself that Wonwoo was right here, that he didn’t lose him for good. It was such an odd realization, too. Objectively, it wasn’t like Wonwoo hadn’t left him before, (and it would have been permanent, as well), yet to even think that he had died…

Junhui had never experienced something that paralyzing. The rollercoaster of emotions confused him more than anything. Did this change things between them?

Actions spoke louder than words, after all. The position the pair found themselves in now would certainly suggest that things had changed. What sort of professional associates would cling to each other like this? And speaking for himself, certainly no professional associate would prompt such strong feelings of panic, heartbreak, relief, and happiness in him like Wonwoo did.

Denial could only get him so far. It was pretty clear why his emotions had been so out of control lately. He wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry that it’d taken him this long to realize that he was in love with Wonwoo.

So much for not wanting to complicate matters.

Eventually, the shaking and trembling ceased, and Junhui managed to pull himself together. At that point, Wonwoo suggested that he used his powers to get rid of the bodies. To send them somewhere far away, like the abandoned house in Glida Heigh, so that even if the bodies were discovered, the pair would be very far away from them and lower the chances of capture.

Junhui handed him the salve and a clean towel, along with some berries that Freya Blodwen said had healing properties, hoping it would be enough to help with his injuries.While Wonwoo took care of himself, Junhui went off toward the first body and concentrated. He wasn’t sure how long it took to get the job done, but the corpse eventually disappeared.

He sincerely hoped that it actually ended up where he wanted it. It would just be their luck for it to appear in front of Krius. And then they’d really be toast. Keeping the worry private, he walked across the field to take care of the burnt body. Perhaps due to practice, it vanished with much less difficulty.

Dusting his hands, he looked around until he found Hayun’s necklace. He grimaced at the goo and blood, holding it by the chain to wash it off by the river.

When he returned to Wonwoo’s side, his jaw hung open. A few minutes ago, Wonwoo had been in dire need to be transported to the emergency room. Now, aside from a few minor cuts and faint bruises here and there, Junhui would have thought he’d done nothing worse than taken a tumble across the grass. Even his red and swollen eye had gone down.

“This is like, a miracle in a jar,” Junhui commented, glancing at the salve.

He chuckled softly. “You could use some right now, too.” Gesturing toward the boy’s head, Wonwoo seemed to stare at the right side of his forehead.

Automatically, Junhui reached up. With a hiss, he pulled his fingers away. The searing pain, opposed to a dull ache, told him it was a cut (a pretty big one by the smeared blood on his dirty fingertips), and not a bruise. Of course, like an idiot he probably got dirt and who knew what else all over the open wound.

“Here,” Wonwoo handed him a wet cloth and instructed, “Wipe the blood and gunk off. Once it clots, you can put some of the ointment on it.”

“Okay.” Junhui nodded, pressing the cold compress over his temple. After the initial jump from the cold, it helped to numb the pain. A handful of swipes took care of it. It stopped bleeding, only to ooze sticky plasma.

While he cleaned the cuts, he watched Wonwoo walk around picking up the debris from the fight as best as he could. He inferred the other wanted to make it less noticeable, to erase any evidence of the ambush. By the time he was done, it looked better, but not by much. There wasn’t a lot of room to work with.

As if Wonwoo could realistically make the grass grow back, or clean up the patches where blood had spilt. He had picked up the fallen items from their bags and put them back; he collected the remnants of the campfire and scattered them among the trees. As for the broken cot, he took it with him someplace and came back empty handed. Maybe he threw it down the river to get them off their backs momentarily.

After Junhui applied the salve, and Wonwoo had done all that he could, they finally got on their way through the Widow’s Pass. They made the trip in silence, which relieved him. Not once had Wonwoo brought up Junhui’s reaction in the field. All throughout the morning, scenarios and dialogue options flitted through his brain in preparation for when he did. So far, Junhui came up empty in terms of any concrete response.

The last (and only time) he had to go through a “define the relationship” discussion, he and the guy ended up going to the dining hall and stuffing their faces with deserts all night. Now as far as Junhui could see, there were no dessert counters on this slope to distract himself from having to talk about it. As a consequence, he was grateful Wonwoo had such a one-track mind.

By midday, they began to enter the rocky terrain leading to the dark tunnels and slippery caves. The rain must hardly let up over this pass, because every surface was wet. The caves they passed without entering all projected the sound of water dripping. On top of the _drip, drip, drip_ , it sounded like they were passing by a waterfall. As they continued on, a light layer of mist descended, creeping into the cracks of his coat, making his shiver.

Slippery moss-covered rocks, and the lack of purchase or safety gears made for one dangerous combination. More than once, his foot slipped, and were it not for either Wonwoo’s incredibly fast clasp over his arm or his own reflexes, Junhui would have split his head open on the black rock. His heart continuously pumped so hard, he was surprised his vessels hadn’t burst yet.

While the walls had no room for purchase, the surface was abrasive and sharp, which cut up his fingertips like tiny razors and serenaded knife blades. The farther along they climbed, the less likely Junhui believed they’d make it out with limbs intact. His hands and knees alone had already turned into mush.

At last, they found a flat surface larger than a few feet in area to stand on. For the first time since they started, Junhui allowed himself to take in full breaths. Wonwoo took a few swigs of water, scrutinizing the surrounding for the next path to take.

Eyes fixed on some point behind Junhui, he asked, “How long can you maintain a flame on your own?”

“What do you mean, like without a candle or torch?”

“Yeah,” Wonwoo turned his attention to the witchling. “Can you hold and keep a flame burning on its own?”

Stammering, Junhui scratched at his ear, blowing out a breath. “I don’t know. I can try, but the moisture in the air obviously doesn’t help. Why?”

“The flashlight looks a little worse for wear after the fight,” he said, unzipping his backpack to show it off. “It works for now, but who knows when it’s gonna give out. One of these caves leads to the old subterranean tunnel,” he pointed to the series of caves behind them, “which should take us directly to the other side of the mountain, but without sufficient lighting…”

Junhui chewed on his bottom lip and nodded thoughtfully. “Well, I have a tiny light on my keychain, but yeah, we need a real backup.” Glancing behind him, he wondered, “Is it as humid in there as it is out here?”

“Probably,” Wonwoo answered with a sigh, rubbing at his chin. “Look, if you don’t think you can do it, I’ll find some other way to cross the ridge. It’s never wise to depend on something we can’t control.”

“Like those coins?’ he retorted bitterly, holding it out. “Why would she give us something that doesn’t work?”

“She didn’t. Put it back in your pocket,” he ordered.

Junhui blinked, unable to understand how he could say that after what happened to them.

“She said they would mask our tracks,” Wonwoo reminded him calmly. “Nothing about turning us invisible. Those mercenaries were more than likely sniffing around the area and heard us arguing. It was an ambush, simple as that.” He shrugged.

“Hmph,” Junhui huffed, unsatisfied. “Yeah, but would it have killed her to warn us?” he muttered. When he looked over at Wonwoo’s smug expression, he narrowed his eyes and pointed at him. “Don’t you dare say ‘I told you so.’”

He smirked, failing miserably to remain as indifferent as he wanted to appear. “Okay.”

“Alright, now let me just see if I can spark a fire,” Junhui announced, changing the subject. Creating a flame was easy now, but to maintain it was another issue in and of itself. “If I can’t, we’ll have to fashion some kind of torch to keep the fire burning as we go spelunking. And who knows, maybe one torch survived in the tunnel, and we’ll be able to use it.”

Nodding, Wonwoo treaded to the edge and took a cursory look around. “Keep wishing, kitten,” he kid. “I’m gonna go see if can find the tunnel in the meantime.”

“Sounds good,” Junhui agreed with a nod.

“Don’t wander off while I’m gone.” Wonwoo walked back to face him, his expression grim. “You have no idea how easy it is to get lost here.”

His brows furrowed, and he cocked his head. “In that case, how are you going to find your way back to me then?”

One corner of his mouth pulled up to form a crooked smile. “I’ve done it before, haven’t I?”

The way Wonwoo said it in combination with those mesmerizing eyes made his stomach flip flop. “Right,” Junhui exhaled shakily, then cleared his throat to snap himself out of it. He flashed a smile and a thumbs-up. “I’ll stay put, then.”

“Good.” If Wonwoo noticed the slight quiver in the boy’s voice, he didn’t comment on it.

Turning away, Junhui took a few steps away and stretched his arms over his head. Behind closed eyes, he heard Wonwoo’s feet shuffle away, followed by his shoes landing somewhere distant. To see where he had gone to, Junhui cracked an eye open.

He had taken a leap from their little perch to the adjacent bank. He scaled that one, then slid off the other side and disappeared. Junhui blew out a breath and tried to push away the scary images of him breaking his neck. Only positive thoughts are allowed.

Squaring his shoulders relaxed his muscles enough that he could fold his legs and sit down. He ignored the damp and hard surface, collecting a handful of fallen pine needles into a small stack. To start off, he warmed up by lighting that on fire. It worked like a charm, so to speak. The needles burned down to ashes within a minute. Next, he really had to work to hold back the flame from consuming the first source of fuel it came in contact with. The initial attempts resembled the striking of a lighter without the flame catching. There were a lot of sparks, but no actual fire.

His palm and fingers quickly tired themselves out and became sore from the constant snapping. To relieve the soreness, he rubbed his hands together and sat still for a minute. How long had it been since Wonwoo left? Probably no more than twenty minutes. He sat up straighter, straining his neck to scan the vicinity. Nothing but black rocks and pine trees, no red jacket in sight.

Before his paranoia could take the better of him, he got back to business, snapping away like some backup singer. Eventually, the practice paid off. Instead of disappearing right away, the flame now hovered over his hand for at least five seconds. Excited, he was about to go again when—

“Junhui.”

He startled with a squeak.

Halting his movements, his eyes darted side to side searching for the source of the male voice. It wasn’t even a voice, but an echo. The distortion made it difficult to narrow down the location and its owner.

“Junhui!” he called, louder and clearer this time. Junhui stood up, circling around his spot.

“Wonwoo?” he asked, still seeing no one. “Where are you?”

“Get on your stomach,” he said. When Junhui didn’t move, he added, “Just do it.”

“Okay...” Hoping he hadn’t hit his head and gone crazy, Junhui knelt down and cringed when he lowered himself to him stomach. Because the surface was so tiny, his torso ended up teetering on the edge.

From this vintage point, he understood why Wonwoo had asked him to do it. Through the gap, a ledge jutted out from a tunnel. He caught a glimpse of the bottom of the red hoodie and jeans before anything else. He had to lower his head a little more in order to see their owner’s face.

“How did you even get down there?” Junhui asked, unable to imagine the path he had to take.

“It’s a labyrinth, what’d you expect?” he shrugged. “Can you get down?”

“Huh.” He thought for a second, studying the gap. “I think so.” The crack was large enough for him to fit through, and the dips in the walls appeared stable enough to support his weight.

Grabbing the backpack, Junhui began the descent. In hindsight, scaling down to the lower level was child’s play in comparison to the next step.

Now he stood facing Wonwoo, but a chasm of about ten feet separated them. Were they on flat ground, it wouldn’t be a big deal: jump over a stream, a puddle, or even between boulders like they’d been doing all morning. Here, Junhui risked falling into oblivion if he missed his step. So a little apprehension was reasonable, he reasoned.

Tearing his gaze away from the scary darkness below, he met Wonwoo’s stare and gulped. “You couldn’t have told me about this?”

Wonwoo gave him a look. “You can jump ten feet.”

“Says you!” he retorted, sounding way more petulant than he intended. “What if I fall through some dark dimension or something?”

Wonwoo rolled his eyes, sighing, “Junhui.”

“Okay, okay.” He put his hands up in surrender, taking a few steps back so he could run and gain momentum. As he did, he muttered under his breath, “If I die, I’m coming back to haunt you.”

“Right.” Wonwooscratched his forehead where the rim of his hat sat. “Remember to take a number, kitten.”

His comment made Junhui pause, erasing their bantering match. He stared at him, head cocked to the side, realizing that it wasn’t just a sarcastic comment. As if sensing that Junhui was about to ask him about it, Wonwoo cleared his throat. “Are you gonna do it, or do I have to come and get you?”

“I’m coming,” he said, unsatisfied.

Inhaling deeply, Junhui ran forward and leapt off the ledge.

He should have made it.

But he jumped one step too soon. The momentum disappeared by the midway point. His heartbeat raced. Panic washed over him. Wonwoo’s eyes widened, and he raced forward. Junhui was falling.

Yet, miraculously, something happened. A gust of wind seemingly pushed him upward and threw him at Wonwoo. They crashed onto the ground with dual grunts.

Stars still danced in his vision, his ears rung, when Junhui landed on him. Their concurrent groans did pierce through the buzz, though.

“Sorry,” Junhui apologized as he got off of him. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” he assured him, sitting up. “Glad to see you got a better grasp on your powers.”

Junhui stared at him, trying to blink away the stars. “My powers? Is that what happened?”

“How else are you gonna explain it?” Wonwoo let out a tired breath, reaching over to brush back the brown locks. “I’m sorry. I really thought you could make the jump.”

“So did I,” Junhui admitted, secretly preening at the hand petting his hair. “I wouldn’t have jumped if I didn’t believe it, even a little bit.”

That seemed to ease his conscience a little, and Wonwoo smiled half-heartedly. They got to their feet, dusting themselves off. Now that Junhui was closer, he noticed the wooden beams built-in to support the shaft. This really must be the entrance to the old tunnels.

“So people used to mine here, huh?” he asked, raising his head to assess the dome.

“Yeah.”

“Wow.” He nodded in appreciation, still admiring the work. He’d watched documentaries of old caves and mines, but to actually see one in person was quite impressive. Just thinking of the workers who died digging and expanding this tunnels, Junhui gave them a moment of respect.

“Let me guess,” Wonwoo said quietly behind him, “First time seeing a gemstone mine?”

“Or any sort of mine,” he clarified. “A lot of people died in here, didn’t they?”

Wonwoo didn’t answer right away. His eyes shifted to the dark opening and nodded. Something crossed his expression; however, he erased it too fast for Junhui to determine what it meant. One thing he was positive about, though, Wonwoo had tried to hide a similar look before.

Whenever Junhui pried into his past further than he was willing to share. Wonwoo had been quite open with him about Soonyoung and Jihoon, but when it came to questions about his life before the curse hit, he would shut down. Once, he had mentioned that his parents had died, and he had no siblings. Junhui knew that at one point, little Jeon Wonwoo had been happy, if the stories of camping were any indication.

Maybe Junhui’s desire to know his past was a result of his own parents hiding so much from him. Regardless of the reason, he knew it couldn’t be easy. Whatever Wonwoo was hiding weighed him down more than losing his best friends. It didn't happen overnight, but Wonwoo did ultimately open up to him about what happened the day their group was caught by the guards and village folks. But this was different. He was intent on keeping his mouth shut about this part of his past.

In retrospect, Wonwoo had refused to divulge anything pertaining to his reason for signing the Pact numerous times. Piecing together what Junhui knew, he would wager that it had something to do with his childhood.

Walking past him, Wonwoo reached for one of the old torches hanging on the side of the tunnel, snapping Junhui out of his musings.

“Glad to get a lucky break for once,” he commented and extended it out to the witchling.

Junhui lit it up. “Mm.”

Holding the torch and starting forward, Wonwoo remarked, “I didn’t think these would still be around.”

“Neither did I,” Junhui replied, tucking away the questions he had about the mysteries of the other's past.

“You should have wishful thinking more often,” he chuckled, and Junhui giggled.

“If it were that easy, I’d wish for Krius to kick the bucket.”

“I second that.”

It was nice to laugh, even only for a second.

They marched forward, their light seemingly too small to fight off the dank darkness all around. The tunnel appeared to go on for miles. Their footsteps and the constant water drops hitting the ground reverberated all around them.

After an hour or so, they came upon a fork in the road. Wonwoo stopped, shining the light first down the left path, then the right. He decided on the latter option.

“Are you sure you know where you’re headed?” Junhui asked, a little worried as he tugged on the red sleeve.

“Yes.”

“I hope you do, because I wouldn’t know what I’d do if we surfaced in Krius’ lair or something.”

“Krius doesn’t have a lair,” he said with a head shake. “He lives in a castle on the Western cliffs of the island.”

Scoffing, Junhui rolled his eyes. “Of course he lives in a castle. Freaking’ imp.”

Wonwoo chuckled, and inexplicably, that made Junhui smile. Thank goodness he didn’t look over and see it.

The path progressively narrowed, first forcing them to reduce the space between them by half, then it put them right by each other, close enough to graze the other’s arm. When it became impossible for them to walk side by side, Wonwoo stepped in front of him to lead the way, since he held the light. Yet at the same time, Junhui had a feeling he wanted to put himself between the witchling and whatever obstacle might befall them.

That gesture alone was enough to make Junhui internally swoon. To make it worse, Wonwoo took it one step further. With utmost confidence, he reached back and took the boy’s hand in his when they began to go uphill. Junhui had to repress the pleasant frisson that resulted from the contact.

At last, the light at the end of the tunnel came into view. Only it wasn’t white; it had a blueish glow to it. Wonwoo glanced back briefly to see the other’s reaction.

“Have you ever seen anything like that?” Junhui whispered.

He shook his head. “No, but there’s only one way to find out what it is.”

And with that, Wonwoo took them through the last dozen yards to the source of the blue light.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ╰(*´︶`*)╯Praise the WonHui gods, Jun finally figured out he's in love with Wonwoo ✩°｡⋆⸜(ू˙꒳˙ ) Nothing quite like death to get your perspectives in order, right? lol And the WONWON came out! Aaaaahhhhh!!! (*ฅ́˘ฅ̀*) .｡.:*♡
> 
> Till this day, I am still tickled by the fact that Jun finds Wonu cutest when he wakes up, going so far as referring to OFD 1 for the clip. Whipped ٩(๑> ₃ <)۶♥ CANON FUN FACTS ARE MY JAM
> 
> And to clarify, Wonwoo didn't die and come back to life. This ain't Tangled, yo! lol. It's just that Jun was so frazzled and shaken up, he couldn't feel Wonu's pulse. And it took him a few seconds to hear his heartbeat over the blood rushing through his own ears. Wonwoo just passed out for a couple minutes XD
> 
> I hope the fluff was enough to appease you hehe. Unless I'm tripping, they should get a little better at expressing their fondness from now on. Yay! Progress!
> 
> As always, thank you for reading! See you next week!  
> xoxoxo


	20. Blue Lullabies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WonHui get to another Pillar, and Wonwoo finally shares his backstory.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is so long omj... 
> 
> -

 

 

Transfixed by the spectacle before their eyes, Wonwoo and Junhui stood at the entrance of the immense cave with their jaws hung open. Besides the sheer size of the cavern (at least two football fields in length and one in height), the glowing, blue crystals were really what took their breaths away. On every wall and column, these pulsating gems gathered and grew in small clumps. The ones closest to the boys looked like hand-sized quartz sprouting out from an uneven base. Crushed mirror pieces seemed to make up the darker colored foundation, which reflected the glow of the crystals on each little facet. Because of such, thousands of tiny rainbows danced on the ceiling. It appeared nothing less than magical; something that came right out of fantasy land.

“Are they… some sort of rare diamonds?” Junhui wondered, having never shown much interest in precious stones before. “They’re huge.” He leaned in close to one that was almost the size of his palm. “At least seventeen carats.”

Wonwoo arched a brow. “Seventeen?”

The other shrugged, straightening up. “I don’t know, it just seemed to fit.”

Chuckling, the other looked around some more. “Well, your guess is as good as mine. Come on.”

Still holding Junhui’s hand, Wonwoo took a step forward, his palm grazing the wall as he moved. A low humming began to ring out, and the gems glowed brighter. Startled, the boys jumped away from the wall. The action dislodged Wonwoo’s hand from the wall, as well as his hold on Junhui. As if switched off, the humming dropped, and the blue light dimmed to their original brightness.

“What was that?” Junhui whispered, too stunned to speak up.

“I—I don’t know,” he replied, just as puzzled as the other was.

They retraced their steps individually toward the wall to study the rocks. Tentatively, Junhui touched one of them. It was smooth and cool under his fingertips, like a slab of marble. No glowing, though. He glanced over at Wonwoo with a small confused frown. The pulsating light turned the red of his hoodie a slight purple.

“Everything got brighter when _you_ touched the wall,” Junhui noted. “Do you have powers you’ve been keeping secret from me all this time?” His tone was playful, but the notion wouldn’t surprise him much if it turned out to be true that Wonwoo was some kind of sorcerer.

Not responding, Wonwoo narrowed his eyes at the wall. “It’s not me,” he uttered with conviction. Before Junhui could even tell him to try it again to see, Wonwoo grabbed the boy’s wrist in his right hand and pressed his left to the nearest clump of crystals.

Junhui’s heart jumped, but something other than the pleasant sensation of the familiar cool hand on his skin caught his attention at that point.

The same incredible phenomenon occurred around them again. This time, with the prolonged contact, the humming sounded louder, clearer, vibrating through the empty space. It almost sounded like a mystical song. The crystals pulsated faster and brighter, too. 

“It’s you,” Wonwoo stated with no little awe, tearing his gaze from the ceiling to meet the witchling’s astonished eyes.

“Wh-what?”

Keeping Junhui's wrist in his hold, Wonwoo dropped his hand from the wall. The music and light show abruptly stopped, leaving them in standing in a soft blue glow and silence. Since they were still touching, Junhui gave it a go. He reached up and pressed his hand to another part of the wall. Right away, the cave came to life once again.

Turning to him with a confused pout, Junhui said, “But nothing happened when I did it earlier, which means that for whatever reason, it only works with two people.”

“I suppose so. Maybe feeds off our energy.”

Junhui took another look around the cave, then called out, “I think Mom mentioned something like this in her journal.”

Reluctantly, he had to pull his arm away so he could swing the backpack strap over a shoulder to retrieve the second notebook. He flipped to the back where she kept notes on the plants and minerals she had encountered. Apparently, they were useful for certain charms and potions. Junhui stopped at the sketch of a crystal cluster, which was accompanied by a photocopied page of a book.

“‘Blue lullabies,’” he read, “‘crystals grow underground, or otherwise in dark, humid, and cold environment. Exposure to blue lullabies can be beneficial in moments of stress or agitation due to their calming essence. Given the right amount, it has been proven to relax and soothe its audience within seconds. Long-term exposure to the crystals can cause paralyzing effects, if not managed properly.’

“‘Cases have shown that people who have remained in its presence for longer thanan average fifteen minutes have difficulty waking up from the artificially induced tranquility. The longer they remain in contact with the crystals, the more addictive the effects become. When harvesting blue lullabies, one must exercise caution and approach with some source of heat, as heat seems to counteract its potency and allow one to remain clear-headed. In the hands of experts, crushed blue lullabies can be a very powerful tool. A few seeds are enough to put a crowd to sleep for a couple hours, but be careful not to breathe in some by mistake.’”

Glancing up from the page, Junhui met his partner’s eyes. “Do you feel any different?”

He shrugged. “Not drastically, but there is something off.”

“Yeah,” Junhui thought about it, chewing on his lip. “I know what you mean.” His head felt funny, too light. The sense of urgency had decreased dramatically. He still wanted to leave and get back on the road, but for some reason, he didn’t mind spending more time under this luminous dome. Moreover, now that he was sitting down after walking for so long, there wasn’t much motivation to get him to move.

Since Junhui didn’t look like he wanted to stand up any time soon, Wonwoo walked around and tapped on a few of the gems. It resulted in a very elegant chime, which echoed around them. He eyed them skeptically. “We’re here without a fire. How can we still think properly? Shouldn’t we be somewhere on Cloud Nine, daydreaming by now?”

Large doe eyes stared up at him, reflecting all of their owner’s questions and bewilderment. He sighed and fixed the brim of his beanie. While Junhui dug around his brain for some kind of response that would make sense, Wonwoo shrugged off his backpack and took a seat next to him on the ground.

“The only plausible explanation that I can think of,” Wonwoo stated, “is that you are somewhat immune to them due to your magic, but that doesn’t explain why I’m hardly affected.”

Now that he mentioned the witchling’s powers, a memory came to mind: Freya Blodwen’s assessment of his magical signature and how it got that way. His eyes darted to his companion’s.

“What?” he wondered.

“Just something that Freya Blodwen mentioned.” Wonwoo waited for him to elaborate, so he added, “She says my magic is red, and uh…” A nervous chuckle. Feeling his cheeks heat up, Junhui played with his bangs as he addressed their shoes. “She said my magic got that way because of you.”

“Because of me,” Wonwoo repeated, not quite believing what he was hearing. Junhui felt him move, their shoulders brushing as he turned to look at the witchling. “How’s that?”

“Well, long story short, uh.” He laughed again, edging a little on the hysterical side now. “I developed my magic around you—you’re the reason I even found out about them. Your personality is red; therefore, my magic acquired similar characteristics. So, in a way, I guess we’re kind of… connected?” His hands were so clammy, he couldn’t stop rubbing them on his jeans.

Wonwoo took a second, focus divided between what had been said and Junhui’s nervous agitation. “What you’re saying is,” he leaned forward, resting an elbow on his knee, while reaching for Junhui’s chin to lift his face up. “We’re a package deal?”

A soft laugh escaped, and Junhui nodded. “Yeah, I guess so.”

Wonwoo offered him a rare soft smile, and his heart skipped a beat. He prayed the other wouldn't notice.

“It would certainly explain why the cave glowed when we touched the wall,” he commented. “And why we’re still okay sitting among these crystals.” He scanned the cave. “The warmth that’s supposed to counteract the crystals is within you, then: your magic. No wonder creating fire came so easily to you.”

“Really?” His eyes widened. “I didn’t even think of that.”

“It’s good that I’m here, then,” Wonwoo joked, patting his knee affectionately and pushing himself to his feet. “Alright. Not that this break hasn’t been wonderful, but we need to find our way out of here.” As Junhui stood up to dust himself off, Wonwoo swung the provisions bag over his shoulder and scrutinized the other end of the cave.

Against what Junhui thought he would do, Wonwoo picked up a rock nearby and headed straight for the stalagmite column in front of them. He contemplated a cluster, wiggling the spikes like you would a loose tooth. When the cluster didn’t seem to budge, he lifted the rock and smashed it.

“Whoa!” Junhui exclaimed, jumping back to avoid the flying shards. “What are you doing?”

“Don’t you remember what you read? We can use this to knock out Krius’ men whenever we encounter them.” Picking up the larger pieces, he stuffed them inside the small pocket of his bag. “As I’m sure he already knows you’ve escaped, he’s definitely got them watching the Pillars waiting for you to arrive.” Wonwoo crushed a few more clusters, and Junhui bent down to help collect them. “We should be able to even out the fields with these beauties.”

“Knowing that,” Junhui prodded casually, “How did you plan on taking them on if we hadn’t come across this cave?”

He shrugged, standing up to his full height. “Wing it.”

“How reassuring,” the witchling muttered, glancing up at him. “I feel so very safe.”

Matching the sarcasm, Wonwoo grinned dryly. “I aim to please. Now let’s get out of here. With any luck, we can get to the Pillar before nightfall.”

Thankfully for them, the trip out of these tunnels proved to be much less perilous. A narrow path led out of the cave, and exiting it, the boys found themselves at the bottom of a large valley by late afternoon.

Just over the grass knolls was the road that Junhui had wanted to take this morning. Right then, they glimpsed at a small horse-drawn cart transporting lumber. Wonwoo grabbed him, and they dove behind the nearest bushes. The owner, too preoccupied by his own thoughts, didn’t bother deviating his focus from the road, missing them completely.

Wonwoo gave him a look that all but screamed, ‘I told you so,’ and Junhui stuck his tongue out.

Forgetting about the traveler, Junhui studied the dry and yellow hillside in front of him, wondering how all of these huge boulders wound up sprouting up from the arid terrain like mushrooms after rainy days. There were so many of them, of various sizes and shapes, all over the slope. One other question arose as he kept studying the hill: why was the soil so parched and grass so scorched? It couldn’t be because of harsh sunlight since there is none on this darned island, and yet it looked exactly like that. The tall grass blades that swayed in the wind now crackled as they hit each other, suggesting they were merely husks at this point. His gaze roamed upward, searching for tree stumps, thinking maybe there used to be large trees in the area that sucked up all the soil’s nutrients. However, no stumps in sight. So odd.

Wonwoo consulted the map, glancing up at the top of the hill, obviously not curious about its geology. “We’re in the right area,” he told him, folding up the map and making a little circle with his index. “But the Pillar’s probably on the other side.”

Nodding, Junhui followed him up the slope. The thing about arid soil is that without any sort of moisture, it felt just as slippery as sand. Stepping on the dried grass offered a better grip, but his sneakers weren’t hiking boots, and he was having a rough time not faceplanting in the dirt. Maybe it was the extra effort to hold his balance, but he was winded by the time they reached the midpoint—probably fifty feet from where they started.

Over the hill, as Junhui stood there panting, his heart sank. Boulders upon boulders as far as the eyes could see dotted the prairie. How were they going to distinguish a regular rock from the right Pillar without visiting each and every one of them? From this distance, he felt the same buzzing energy emanating from the shield protecting the Pillar, but that didn’t help narrow it down.

“How... are we...” Junhui panted, swallowing to catch his breath, “going to figure out which one it is without running all over the place?”

Not having any of the boy’s whining, Wonwoo set off, determined to find it before sundown. “C’mon, slowpoke.” He was winded from the trek, too, but he kept pushing forward.

Junhui admired his resolve. To keep his feet moving, he had to remind himself that the faster he got this done, the sooner he’d see his mother.

Later, when the sky had darkened, the boys finished checking out the area and proceeded to round the summit. This side of the hill had a few more trees, and large, intimidating rock formations. The static energy in the air hitched up as they went along, so at least he knew they were making good progress.

It got to that time at the end of the day, where the sun lingered on the horizon behind the rain clouds, plunging the surrounding into a hazy light. Sunsets during rainy and winter months often unnerved and unsettled him. Something about the eerie lighting made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on ends. This evening was no exception.

More so because the chilly wind blowing through the pair carried with it faint voices. Wonwoo heard them, too.

They stopped walking, eliminating the soft crunching sound of their footsteps. Without it, the voices resonated with enough volume for them to determine the origin as somewhere worriedly close by. Still, they couldn’t give up; they expected to there to be guards, after all.

The farther they hiked, the stronger the energy in the air got, to the point where the witchling’s loose strands of hair floated in the air like he’d just rubbed a balloon over his head. Wonwoo was spared the comical sight due to his beanie. As quietly as he could, Junhui smoothed his fringe down. Then he stuffed his hands in his pockets, afraid he’ll accidentally shock Wonwoo with the static.

Down the slope, behind a large rock formation that looked like a crooked stack of pancakes, a small column of smoke escaped. The boys couldn’t see the glow of the fire, but they sure could smell the burning wood. Wonwoo slowed his pace and began to crouch behind the boulders peppered throughout the field.

About a hundred feet away, the boys stopped and hid behind another rock, this one well over twenty feet high. Wonwoo peeked around the column. When he turned back to Junhui, he put a finger over his mouth and gestured for him to stay put. Junhui nodded, his heart rate starting to accelerate with the adrenaline. He stayed behind, watching after Wonwoo as he snuck up closer. At this distance, Junhui could make out gruff male voices and something else. A sharp clicking sound. It took him a second, but he realized that they were either cleaning or loading weapons.

“I’m gonna go check it out. Stay here.”

“Be careful.”

“Mm.” He gave the witchling's head a gentle pat, then slinked away.

Junhui bit his lip, holding his breath as Wonwoo reached the back of the pancake stack. He rested his back against it for a second to gather his wits, then turned around and inched forward. He returned to his seat so fast, Junhui didn’t even know if he had a chance to see anything worthwhile. When the men’s conversation didn’t stop, Junhui assumed he hadn’t been seen. He made his way back to their hidden spot.

“The Pillar is right behind that,” he reported in a hushed tone. “Ten guards in total.”

Obviously with a plan already formed in his head, he unzipped the front pocket of his bag to retrieve the pieces of crystals. Anticipating his request, Junhui dug in the bag for a handkerchief, spreading it over the flattest rock. He dumped the blue lullabies on it and picked up a stone. Fortunately, it didn’t require much force to crush them all to a fine powder. Junhui gathered the corners of the hankie and collected the dust.

“Okay, here’s the plan,” Wonwoo said, “Once they fall asleep, you write out the spell reversal, while I make rubbings of the diagrams and collect the dirt. We’ll figure out how they fit in Hayun’s sketch later.”

Junhui swallowed nervously. “And you wouldn’t happen to have any experience with spell reversals, do you?”

“Nope. Sorry.”

“Yeah,” he sighed. “I figured. Any chance I can talk you into trading tasks?” Wonwoo gave him a look. “Kidding. Okay, let’s go before I chicken out.”

The boys crawled up toward the stony stack of pancakes. His heart hammered so loudly in his chest and ears, he seriously hoped none of the guards had super-hearing. The pair snuck around to the shadows. The guards sat around the campfire, all holding some sort of weapon by their side. As Junhui scanned their fierce faces, he saw no sympathy or mercy whatsoever. He recognized one of them from the snowy mountain top, the guard was sitting right in front of him across the fire. Had it not been for the rock and shadows hiding them, he would have easily noticed the fugitives.

Junhui waited until the guard’s eyes wandered away from their general direction. In the meantime, he seized up the Pillar behind the group, as tall and intimidating as the last one. Finally, the guard turned to the side to join in the conversation.

Putting his hand up, Junhui twirled his finger in the air to call forth a breeze, something he’d learned from watching Freya Blodwen. The gentle wind wasn’t strong enough to attract attention, but more than enough to do its job. Still feeling it caress his hair, the witchling spread the hankie in his palm and blew the magic dust toward the guards. In the glow of the fire, he followed the sparkling and shimmering powder fly and settle down on the men. The ones standing began to get wobbly, pulling their hands out to maintain balance. The ones seated consecutively started to yawn.

“What’s...” one mumbled, “What’s going on?” He rubbed his eyes, attempting to wake himself up.

“Magic,” another responded, fighting to stay upright. “They’re... here! Men! Gather—” His sentence was cut short by a yawn, and he slumped against a tree shortly after, snoring up a storm.

“That little pest!” The guard from the mountain bellowed, his hand flying to his gun. Junhui held his breath. “I should’ve—” Not even anger could combat the effects of the blue lullabies. The brute’s grip slipped off from the shotgun; the weapon landed on the ground, followed by his body. Junhui twirled his wrist to put out the fire to maximize the effects of the crystals.

A minute later, all of Krius’ men were reduced to sleeping lumps. _It actually worked!_

Wonwoo’s hand began to rub the boy’s fingers and knuckles, causing Junhui to look over in confusion. With a start, he let go of the death-grip around the other boy's arm.

“Sorry,” Junhui said, embarrassed. “I didn’t even know I grabbed you.”

“It’s okay,” he brushed it off with a smile. “Come on. I don’t know how much time we have before they wake up.”

Quickly, they stepped around the snoring beasts toward the Pillar. If his hair had been crazy before, now it was basically having a life of its own. Junhui lowered the shield, and Wonwoo shone the flashlight on it for them. Junhui shredded out a few pages from Hayun’s notebook and handed him a pencil. While he worked on getting the symbols, the witchling read the inscription.

_Let the fire in me burn brighter than the sun above._

He scratched his head. Reversal, reversal, reversal...

_Stop the fire in me from burning brighter than the sun above_.

No. That was dumb.

Of all the times to suddenly blank out, it had to be now. Nervously, he glanced back at the sleeping guards, noting that none of them uttered any noise besides loud snoring. Next to him, Wonwoo finished the rubbings and pocketed the note paper. Not wasting any time, he knelt down and dug up some dirt.

_Grrr!_ Pulling himself together, Junhui cracked his knuckles and pulled out Hayun’s journal to reread her spells. To cease the nervous tick, he tapped the cover of the notebook, analyzing the pattern and applying it to this one.

At last, it came to him. He shook out a piece of chalk and went up to the Pillar. _Restore the heat and light I stole to the sun._ The phrase glowed purple for a second, then dimmed. He took that as a sign that it worked. Relieved, he spun around to search for Wonwoo.

A jolt shot from his spine to his limbs, tingling his skin.

“What are you _doing?”_ Junhui demanded in a hushed scream, fighting the urge to run over and drag him away. Not that he'd go without a fight.

Apparently not believing he needed to explain himself, Wonwoo continued to confiscate every weapon in sight. The pile of shotguns and pistols grew as he walked to the last sleeping men and threw the weapons to the side. Junhui tiptoed closer, shining the beam of the flashlight to examine the pile. Not only were there firearms, but also knives and batons. Skirting the circle of the slumbering guards, he wondered what Wonwoo counted on doing next.

“Pick one,” Wonwoo suggested, gesturing toward the weapons.

Before Junhui could comment, Wonwoo bent down and grabbed a knife, which he tucked into his back pocket, as well as a pistol. He checked the cartridge, the noise shredding through the unnatural silence. Junhui’s eyes flickered to the men, but they thankfully remained unconscious.

Junhui thought better to handle a gun. His lack of experience might kill them both on accident. As his feet stayed planted in place, too mortified to make a decision, Wonwoo unrolled a bundle of rope and proceeded to tie all of the guards’ ankles together.

“Junnie? You doing okay there?”

“Oh, sorry. Let me help.”

Finally snapping out of the stupor, the boy jogged over and lifted their limp legs to facilitate the task for him. At first, Junhui didn’t see the reasoning behind his choice in priorities. Were it up to him, Junhui would have tied their hands behind their backs first.

Once their feet were tied together, though, Junhui comprehended the logic. They boys dragged them and propped them up back to back. Wonwoo knotted one pair of hands together first, then looped the arm of the other guy through the first’s, creating a link. Not only were their arms roped behind their backs, their arms would be stuck together, making any attempt of escaping nearly impossible. The two quickly dropped the tied up men, and went to take care of the other eight.

Not a moment too soon, the guard from the mountain stirred. That was a cue to get out of here if Junhui ever saw one. Wonwoo kicked down their tent and used the tarp to wrap the weapons up. He took one side and Junhui the other, the two carrying the makeshift bag down the hill westward, away from where they had come from.

In the middle of the next hill, they noticed a pit someone had probably dug dozens of years ago. Wonwoo skidded down the hillside and dumped the bag into the black hole, with Junhui using his powers to shove them deeper down the earth so they wouldn’t be seen and retrieved by the enemy. Then they continued to move West, eventually reaching flat ground.

The country road cut through a field, with either side lined with broken down wooden fences. Through the cracks, bushes crowded together, fighting for room against the trees. Their low and wispy branches creeped Junhui out. In the limited light, they looked like clawed hands swooping down to catch their latest victims.

Junhui shivered and frowned when Wonwoo purposely headed for them, taking advantage of their shadows and busy boughs to hide the two of them. Walking in the middle of nowhere at night was terrifying enough without the added creepiness. Every time a gust of wind blew past, a branch would dive forward, stroking Junhui’s head or back; he’d yelp and whine without missing a beat. Wonwoo did not refrain from laughing.

One especially long and low twig swept over their heads. Junhui ducked, but that only made it worse. The wind combined with the rapid movement caused the darn branch to catch onto his hair.

“Ah!” Junhui gasped, jerked backward by the sudden pain. His hands flew up to the tangled strands, wondering how much of a bird’s nest his hair must be for a branch to get stuck in it. “Stupid, creepy Halloween claws,” he muttered under his breath, frustrating little cries tumbling from his mouth as he tries to blindly free himself.

“Kitten, calm down.” Wonwoo stopped next to him, putting a hand on his shoulder. The kitten ceased wiggling immediately. “I got it. Don’t move,” he instructed calmly.

Junhui did as was told. Very gently, Wonwoo began to untangle his hair from the branch. To do so, he came to stand right next to the other boy, so close Junhui could sense his breath tickling his cheek. His heart pounded faster. Which wasn’t too bad, since it took his mind off of his current fear that some wild beast will leap out of the dark and devour them.

“Can—can you see?” Junhui asked, pointing the light upward.

Wonwoo didn’t answer. Instead, about twenty seconds later, the branch snapped, and the weight lifted from his hair. Long fingers gently unraveled the knots, mindful not to tug with too much pressure, and picking away leaves and tree barks. A few more twists, and Junhui was free.

“Thank you,” he said, running a hand through the mess to comb it back. “I was afraid you’d ask me to cut it off.”

Wonwoo chuckled, making the other smile back in response. Then, like the most naturally gesture, he reached for Junhui’s hood and pulled it over the boy’s head. “This should keep it from happening again.” As he offered the advice, his fingertips brushed the errant strands away from his eyes.

Junhui blinked. Several times. Unable to utter any coherent word, he made do with a nod.

Smirking, Wonwoo resumed walking. A second later, Junhui fell into step with him.

“So where are headed, exactly?” he wanted to know, curiously peering over at his face.

“There’s a place we can spend the night relatively close by, but only if you can keep walking for a while.”

Shrugging to show it wasn’t an issue, he asked, “How far?”

His companion pondered it for a second, cocking his head to the side to glance at him. “Maybe two hours, if we keep our current pace.”

Junhui considered it, taking inventory of his legs and feet. He’d had longer and tougher dance practices than this and survived. “I think I can do it.”

“Just let me know if you need to rest.”

“Mm.”

They walked along the path in silence for a couple minutes, listening to the whistling wind and rustling leaves under their shoes.

With hands in his pockets, Junhui leaned back to stare up at the patches of clouds. “Why do you think the island is permanently plunged in overcast and rainy weather? I know it happened after Krius took control, but is there a reason?” As he let his eyes roam the vast, grayish-blue dome, he could almost tell where the moon was hiding. Growing up, every time he looked up at the sky, buildings and billboards always infringed on the view. Watching a completely free sky was a first for him, and it was fascinating. Even if it was covered in dark clouds.

“Well,” Wonwoo chose his words to answer the inquiry, “From an imagery and symbolism point of view, it’s pretty self-explanatory. Whether he purposely did it or if it resulted from the Pact, I don’t have the answer.” He shrugged. “It wouldn’t surprise me, though, if he did it intentionally. Possibly to damper people’s spirits and make them miserable all the time.” The last part, he spit it out with much more bitterness, betraying his playful tone.

“Yeah,” Junhui agreed quietly, ducking his face to burrow into the scarf. “Constant rain can be very depressing—never allowed to see or feel the sunlight.”

Wonwoo chuckled at the comment, but it wasn’t out of amusement. It sounded so hollow. Junhui frowned. “I never hated the rain until I had to perpetually live with it.”

He didn’t like to see him like this. To lighten the mood, Junhui remarked, “You make it sound like a bad marriage.” It worked. Wonwoo laughed softly, and he grinned.

Because the universe loved irony, the skies grumbled angrily and a loud clap of thunder boomed overhead. No lightning, at least.

“Fantastic,” Wonwoo muttered under his breath, unrolling the tarp they stole from the guards. He pulled it over his head and extended his arm out toward his partner. The first rain drops hit the ground the moment Junhui huddled next to him.

His stomach did so many summersaults, he was afraid the butterflies in his belly were going to choke him. This was so much worse than when they shared the umbrella. He hadn’t been aware of his feelings then. Now it was impossible not to feel self-conscience of their proximity to each other.

The close quarters made the simple act of sharing an old tarp so intimate. Junhui both loved and dreaded it. He’d been nervous when they'd shared they umbrella too, of course; although his heart did skip a beat, it had merely been a result of standing close to someone attractive. But now, after all they’d gone through, it wasn’t just physical attraction—it was something stronger, and _that_ terrified him. 

Junhui didn’t just like staring at Wonwoo. He wanted to be close to him, to talk to him, to hear his voice. He enjoyed his company. He felt happy when Wonwoo laughed; he felt safe at his side. It’d felt like his entire world had crumbed when he believed Wonwoo died. Junhui had fallen hard for him, and he had no idea what he was going to do about it.

His head tilted up from staring at their shoes, and his gaze caught the other boy’s. Junhui had taken him by surprise, so in that one second before Wonwoo could compose his expression, his dark eyes had appeared so very tender. A snapshot of the young man he had once been, of the one he was, behind the cold façade and hostility.

While it was Wonwoo who was caught off-guard, Junhui was the one surprised. Never in his entire life had anyone looked at him with such a fond and gentle gaze. For that briefest moment, he felt cherished and important, like someone worthy of protection and care. Like someone being loved.

Thinking back on that night, he still didn’t know for sure if Wonwoo leaned overand breached the barrier first or if Junhui somehow got the courage to do it, but their lips were suddenly a breath away. Had either one of them moved a second early, they would’ve kissed.

Unfortunately, a thunderbolt shook the ground and them with it. The two sprung apart, blinking and shaking their heads to clear the fuzzy and warm sensation. Junhui bit his bottom lip, avoiding eye contact until his cheeks could cool. Wonwoo cracked an apologetic smile and turned his attention to the road with a quiet apology. The magic moment dissipated, washed away by the rain along the muddy path.

It took a couple more moments for his body to reach homeostasis again, and he was grateful that Wonwoo didn’t try to start any conversation during that time. Junhui would have probably replied with weird noises in lieu of actual words.

Looking up at the sky again prompted him to think of the millions of stars visible just under that thick layer of gray cotton candy. Casually, Junhui addressed his companion, attempting to clear the air and return to the comfort of their earlier conversation. “Were there a lot of stars that night?”

Somehow, he knew exactly which evening the witchling was referring to, explaining why he hesitated for a second before nodding and replying, “Although, a lot less than I remembered.”

“Light pollution,” they said at the same time.

Wonwoo nodded again, smiling slightly. “Right. And…” He paused, as if debating whether he should continue or not. After a light nudge from his neighbor, he chuckled and obliged. “There was no moon that night.”

“Oh.” Junhui remembered their conversation on that first night. Of how much Wonwoo looked forward to seeing the celestial sight. “You must have been disappointed,” he said sympathetically.

“Mm,” he agreed lightly, then shot him a smirk. “I suppose I’ll rely on you, moonlight.”

His eyes widened along with the quickening of his pulse. “R-right,” he nodded, tugging at his sleeves. To save himself further embarrassment, he changed the subject. “So what was the first thing you did once you got to the mainland?”

“Nothing, really,” Wonwoo sighed, seemingly sparing him from more teasing. “Just took it all in: the different faces passing by, the sound of laughter, music. The smells of food and perfume.”

“I'm sure it was very pleasant,” Junhui commented lightly, curious that he didn’t sound more regretful or angry for having to leave it all behind.

Surprising him, Wonwoo smirked, retorting, “It would have been, if I could get you out of my head.”

The tips of his ears burned, and Junhui was so grateful for the hood covering them from view. At that moment, he deciding that the mud needed his utmost attention.

Wonwoo continued, unbothered, “Of course, not one of my brightest moments, I thought getting drunk would help. Little did I know. The experience reminded me why I kicked the habit,” he scoffed at some inside joke. He must have had one hell of a night. All things considered, Wonwoo risked a lot for his sake.

A few steps down the path, Junhui lifted his head up and stared straight forward. “I never thanked you for coming back.”

“You don’t have to,” he said right away. “Me coming back at all shouldn’t have been an issue to begin with.”

“But you still did,” Junhui insisted, meeting his gaze. “I was mad and upset, rightfully so, if I may add,” he mumbled under his breath, causing Wonwoo to chuckle lowly, “But the point is that, you came back when you didn’t have to, and I am very grateful for that.”

Wonwoo nodded, although clearly uncomfortable of the praise. Had his hands been free, he would have fixed his beanie and jacket by now to get rid of the embarrassment. Instead, he tightened his fist around the corner of the tarp as a distraction.

After a moment, Junhui noticed that while Wonwoo kept his arm propping the tarp over Junhui’s head, he let go of it on his side. He rotated his shoulder and stretched his arm, obviously tired from the strain. Clearly, a person could only uphold their arm for so long at a time. Junhui expected Wonwoo to ask him to take over so he could get a break, but he never did.

As Junhui studied the cover over their heads, he wondered if I could levitate it and make it follow them on its own. That way, their arms wouldn’t threaten to fall off by the end of the two-hour long journey. Poor guy had already had to endure it for an hour, on and off. Junhui felt awful for not realizing it sooner.

“Hold on a second,” he said, tugging on the red hoodie.

Stopping, Wonwoo glanced over, questions swirling in his eyes. “Do you need a break?”

“No, but you do,” Junhui replied. Right as Wonwoo opened his mouth to argue, he cut him off. “Just let me see if I can help. Let go of the tarp when I tell you to.”

An arched brow was his only response as he waited for the word. Junhui ignored the way he stared at him, and focused instead on grabbing onto the tarp with his magic. Once he had a solid grasp, he nodded for him to releases his grip, all the while keeping the target in sight. Wonwoo did it slowly, anticipating the chance that it might fall flat on their heads. Completely hands-free, the tarp floated on its own. Junhui grinned with pride, wiggling side to side as his victory dance.

One quick survey later, Wonwoo moved and rotated his left arm, groaning softly as he stretched it. “Thanks,” he offered bashfully.

Junhui smiled, still guilty. “You’re welcome. I’m sorry I’m sort of an airhead for not thinking about it sooner.”

“Isn’t being an airhead your default status?” he teased, nudging him with his arm.

Junhui made a show of being dramatically offended. He gasped, putting a hand over his chest. “How dare you!”

Laughing, they got on their way, and the tarp automatically followed. It was quite amazing. Twice on the same evening, his magic actually did what he asked of it.

The country road eventually narrowed as the trees on either side grew thicker and more numerous. Evergreens soon replaced deciduous trees, and he observed, as they were once again traversing through the woods, that Wonwoo’s expression grew grim as the pair progressed. At first, Junhui believed it was due to the dangers that might lurk in the bushes, out of sight. However, when nothing more than tiny feet scurrying and owls hooting on branches accompanied them, he crossed out that theory.

They were both exhausted. Their clothes were soaked, their feet ached, their bodies shook from the thick swirls of fog clinging to them. The rain had ceased pelting harshly down overhead, but the light shower remained constant. They dragged themselves through the mud for a hundred more feet along the serpentine path, avoiding trees and rocks.

At last, an old house came into view. It looked so out of place in the middle of these woods, and yet, with the vines and wild plants clinging to the porch railing, the branches of the nearby tree caressing its roof, and thick bushes growing around its sides, it somehow belonged. Extraordinarily, besides the wooden steps sinking into the ground and the moss-covered walls, the house was in fantastic shape for something abandoned in the middle of nowhere.

For one, the house was upright and hole-free, the brick chimney stood on the side proudly, the dark wood planks making up the walls didn’t curve or sag, and the window panes were still intact—albeit disgusting. The beams that upheld the roof over the porch should have crumbled over time, but here they still performed their task effortlessly. No way did this house stay this way on its own. Someone must have taken care of it over the years.

Unlike Junhui, Wonwoo didn’t find the state of the house all that fascinating. He marched right to the steps, telling the other boy to be careful climbing them, and stood facing the front door. Not even checking the knob, he pulled a set of keys from his pocket and inserted one into the lock. It clicked, and he pushed the door open.

“We’re actually not breaking in this time,” Junhui commented playfully.

His face fell when he glanced over and saw Wonwoo’s. If Junhui thought his companion had looked dejected before, he was gravely mistaken. His eyes were as hard and impenetrable as glass, his mouth a thin line, his brows furrowed.

What really sent the witchling reeling, though, was his tone when Wonwoo replied, “No, not this time.” It sounded like all the life had been sucked out of him.

Unknowing how to respond, Junhui silently followed him inside. He felt around for something, which Junhui couldn’t see until the first floor was illuminated in a soft yellow glow.

Shining the small oil lamp around, Wonwoo appeared to make sure the roof wasn’t leaking—it wasn’t. Now that they didn’t stand in the dark, Junhui could make out some detail.

The exterior of the house betrayed how spacious the inside was. Junhui followed the high ceiling and noticed the second floor, led up by a wooden ladder. From here, he glimpsed a bed and trunks, among some storage furniture. Back on the first floor, Wonwoo’s movement toward the stone hearth caught his attention.

Wonwoo had found a box of matches somewhere, most likely next to the oil lamp. Beside the fireplace laid a stack of five chopped logs. Systemically, he threw them in along with some paper kindling and flicked in the match. As he stoked the fire, Junhui walked around the room, noting the wooden dining table and chairs right off of the kitchen with its old stove, a few pantries and cabinets lining that wall. The other side of the house hid behind a couple doors, which he assumed led to another bedroom and the cellar.

Progressively, the fire chased away the chill in the house. Wonwoo and Junhui moved the chairs closer to use as hangers for their jackets, socks and shoes. Junhui spread out the tarp on the floor, and it dried off almost immediately. As he stood there barefoot, warming up, Wonwoo climbed to the second floor. Junhui cocked his head to the side to see what he was doing, but the chimney blocked the view. He heard the lid of a trunk opening and closing, and not long after, Wonwoo climbed down the ladder carrying thick blankets over one arm.

After he handed him one, Junhui wrapped it over his shoulders, grateful for the extra layer. Still morose, Wonwoo did the same with his and sat down on the floor wordlessly. Junhui stood in place for a minute, realizing that he was merely dampening the blanket using it over his soaked clothes. He couldn’t believe he was actually considering doing this.

Wonwoo caught the movement and asked uncertainly, “Junhui? What are you doing?”

Ten minutes later, they both sat as far away as they possibly could in front of the fireplace, wrapped in their respective blanket. Their clothes hung on the chairs nearby, dripping water onto the floorboards.

Wonwoo having little to say shouldn’t have been foreign to him at this point, but this behavior wasn’t normal. Junhui looked over. The tension in his clenched jaw and rigid back betrayed his attempt at acting unperturbed. Sensing the gaze on him, Wonwoo glanced over.

“What?” he asked casually.

Biting the inside of his cheek, Junhui studied him. After a few seconds, he wondered softly, “How did you know of this place?”

His sharp eyes hardened as he turned his head away and let out a heavy sigh. At his reaction, Junhui was transported back to the beginning of their quest, when Wonwoo simply ignored questions he didn’t want to answer. Junhui was sure he would do the same now, too; however, he eventually broke through the unsettling silence.

Keeping his focus straight ahead, Wonwoo admitted, “I signed the Pact because I didn’t want to lose this house.”

His lips opened, ready to utter an insensitive “What? Why?” But he stopped himself at the last second. Confusion did force his brows to furrow, though. What about this old house made it his treasure? How did it compare to gold, silver, and jewels for the other people? No doubt it was connected to all the questions Wonwoo had refused to answer before.

The boy in question rubbed one hand over his face and cleared his throat. “My father built it a few years after my parents got married. As a merchant, he traveled a lot, but he would always make sure to come home every other day, even if it meant traveling through the night. On his last trip, he ran into thieves. Thinking he was a minor carrying gold, they attacked and killed him.” His voice was distant, his attitude detached, as if telling a story he witnessed rather than his own. “It was the first time he ever broke his promise and not come home.” Punctuating the sentence with an empty laugh, Wonwoo ran a hand through his damp hair and shook his head.

Junhui stared at him, his knees pulled to his chest, unable to say anything. Many emotions collided in his head: sympathy, understanding, and helplessness. He wanted to pull him and hug him tightly until he could squeeze out all of the sadness, but he knew Wonwoo would reject the gesture, mistaking it as pity more than anything else. All he could do was sit there and endure. His chest still clenched painfully. Junhui couldn’t begin to imagine how difficult it must have been for him and his mom afterward, alone in the middle of the woods, especially two hundred years ago.

As if reading his thoughts, Wonwoo continued, “Everyday life became more laborious, but my mother and I managed. Once, I suggested that we moved to the nearby village to lessen her workload. She refused to leave this house, saying it was the last thing she had to remember my father by. That no amount of manual labor would be enough to get her to move away.

“The year I turned sixteen, the winter was unnaturally brutal. No one predicted the temperature dropping so low. After years of exerting herself, she had no strength left to withstand the frigid winter; she fell ill. That afternoon, I had just came in from chopping more wood. She called me to her bedside and made me promise that I would take care of this house for as long as I could.

“The moment I agreed, she squeezed my hand as hard as she could. We both knew what was coming. Even in that state, she tried to comfort me, voice hoarse from the coughing fits, recounting things-happier memories. By the end of it, she apologized for not being strong enough to stay with me longer. She told me to be good and grow up to be someone she and my father could be proud of. On her last breath, she told me she loved me. Then she closed her eyes and never opened them again.”

Tears brimmed in the listener’s eyes, blurring his vision as Junhui swallowed the tightness in his throat. He sniffled, and Wonwoo looked over wearing a small frown. He hadn’t meant to elicit tears over his past, but Junhui couldn’t help it. Quickly, he wiped the tears away with the back of his hand.

“Sorry, I just... I’m really sorry, I shouldn’t have asked.”

He stayed silent for a moment, eventually saying, “I'm fine now, moonlight. It’s just been a long time since I let myself remember that epoch.” A heartbeat later, he heaved himself off of the floor, moving toward his clothes. His fingertips checked the damp fabrics.

Feeling more than thinking, Junhui tightened the blanket around his shoulders and stood up as well. Quietly, he approached Wonwoo and dropped his head in between the other's shoulder blades. He sensed Wonwoo's slight jolt, but the latter didn't dislodge his attempt at comforting him. It wasn't the full-bodied hug that Junhui wanted to offer, but it would have to do for now. As long as he could touch him and know that Wonwoo was okay in the present, he'd feel at ease. And he hoped that Wonwoo could feel that way too with him around, too.

He got his answer in the form of muscles loosing, and a shaky exhaled breath. Junhui couldn't hold off the relieved smile as he pressed closer to the strong back in front of him.

“I’m sure you’re curious about what happened next, kitten,” Wonwoo spoke up a while later, his deep voice rumbling calmly.

Junhui burrowed closer, mouth pressed to the fabric. “I do, but I’m hesitant to hear about it when I know there’s no happy ending.”

Wonwoo chuckled sadly, cracking half a smile as he glanced over his shoulder to see the witchling. “Not yet, anyway.” A cool hand snaked around to pat the boy's shoulder, before urging him to return to the fire to warm up. Not leaving room for the other to respond, he cleared his throat and continued. “I moved into the city in the spring. Homeless and orphaned, I saw other kids asking for the foods that local vendors threw out, so I did the same, fighting to get my share, wandering the streets in the day, and sleeping anywhere that offered shelter. One time—the last time—I took a loaf of bread that I saw had fallen onto the ground. Had it not been for Jihoon, I would have gotten my hand cut off.”

Doe eyes widened in shock, but Junhui didn’t interrupt as his fingers gripped the blanket. The owner had still considered it theft even if he would have thrown the bread out anyway. Now Junhui understood why Wonwoo had been so against him using his magic to get them soup that night in the witch’s hut.

“I lived with Jihoon and his father for a couple years,” he resumed. “I delivered papers with him, and eventually, I wrote for the local newspaper. For about three years, things actually improved, but you know that didn’t last. The fish ran out, the land turned unusable, and everything died. While farmers and fishermen panicked about their crops, stocks, and whatnot, I had to find a way to start over. No one cared about the newspaper amongst the chaos, so my job had become obsolete. To get off the island, I needed money, and the only thing I had of value—”

“Was this house,” Junhui finished, and he nodded. “So when Krius showed up, you signed the Pact so you wouldn’t have to sell it.”

“Yeah, we were all fooled into thinking things would go back to the way it was.” Sighing, Wonwoo shook his head at his own naïvety. “Little did we know.”

“I’m sorry,” he said gently.

Wonwoo nodded in acknowledgment, but didn’t voice it.

“So you went back to work for the newspaper afterward?” he asked.

“Yeah,” the other shrugged. “Until I suspected that the reason tourists extended their vacation was because Krius enchanted the newspaper to keep them on the island until the third Wednesday.”

“How can no one notice their missing relatives and friends?” Junhui wanted to know. “Someone had to have made the connection.”

“Well, he doesn’t kill all of them,” Wonwoo pointed out. “The townspeople bring him the victims at the beach, with some kind of ridiculous excuse like bonfire parties or something. Then he makes his choice. He only needs four, and they’re always a whole family or two couples, or a combo. He never tears apart a group, because that will raise suspicions.” Shrugging, he finished. “The rest go home without knowing anything.”

Eyeing him, Junhui stated, “So for all I know, the ‘Have You Seen Me?’ ads in the Sunday paper could be filled with them?”

“It’s possible.”

He shuddered at the thought that that imp could have influenced ‘the real world.’ Wanting to get back on topic, he surmised, “When you found out, you quit?”

Wonwoo scoffed and laughed as if remembering a fond memory. “I set the building on fire.”

_Holy shoot!_ Eyes widening, Junhui gaped at him. “You burned down the building?”

“Don’t worry, no one was inside,” he defended his actions. “And Krius had people rebuild it within the month, so.” He shrugged.

_Geez_. Junhui knew he had a wild streak when it came to fighting back, but he never expected that the guy would go so far as setting a whole establishment ablaze. He was both impressed and a little scared.

The pair stayed still for a while. Then an idea came to him as Junhui thought over the timeline of events. “Do you think Krius did it?”

“Did what?”

“Cursed the sea and the soil, ensuring that when he showed up, people would agree to whatever he offered.”

“He might have accelerated the process,” Wonwoo agreed, “But the townspeople aren’t blameless. You can’t expect a tree to continuously bear you fruits if you don’t water it. And that’s how they—we—lived. Selfishly. We asked too much without giving anything in return.”

“Not everyone here is selfish and thoughtless,” Junhui pointed out.

“True,” he nodded, “And I was very fortunate to have been friends with them.”

“You belong in that category, too, Wonwoo.”

His eyes flickered to his companion’s.

“You could’ve sold this house and started anew some place else. You could’ve gone about life like Mingyu and only concerned yourself about your own bubble. You could’ve let me drown.” Wonwoo broke eye contact, uncomfortable, but Junhui didn’t let it deter him from commenting, “You could’ve done all those things, but you didn’t. I’m not denying that you did some crappy stuff, but at the end of the day, you’re one of the good guys. Give yourself a little credit.”

He showed no sign of agreement with the comment. Instead, he went on to crack his knuckles and avoid the boy’s gaze.

During the couple hours it took for the fire to dry off their clothes, they dug around the provisions bag for food, and Junhui prepared them some hot tea to bring their chilled bodies up to normal temperature. Then they redressed themselves and got ready to earn a well-deserved night's sleep. While Wonwoo went to fetch some pillows from somewhere in the house, Junhui sat in front of the hearth. His mind wandered, sorrowfully engrossed in the imagery of a young boy losing his father, of a teenager watching his mother die, later having to live on the streets and begging for scraps. What was Junhui doing at sixteen? He had both parents, good friends, a roof over his head, food at every meal, new clothes every few months. The only thing he had to worry about was school. He had lived in sheltered luxury.

A loud crash against the door jolted him out of his thoughts. Junhui shot up to his feet, heart racing in his chest. The impact had been so violent, he could still feel the vibration of the floor under his shoes.

“Junhui?” Wonwoo’s alarmed exclamation echoed a second before he appeared at his side.

“I’m fine,” he said quickly. “But something’s at the door.” He gulped, staring at the front of the room, hands automatically reaching out for him.

Wonwoo looked over his shoulder. “Go in the bedroom and lock it.”

“No,” Junhui refused. “I’m not leaving you by yourself with whatever is out there.”

Blowing out a frustrated breath, Wonwoo shook his head, but thought better than to argue. Instead, he grabbed the pistol sitting on the chair and tugged on Junhui’s hand so he’d stay behind him. Then cautiously, he cracked the door open and raised the gun toward their visitor.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who could be at the door??? ヽ(ﾟДﾟ)ﾉ
> 
> WonHui getting cockblocked by thunder, though pfffttt. Sorry, I shouldn't be laughing. But since Krius controls the weather, that means he's responsible for it. All the more reason to hate him! Grrr (๑•̀д•́๑)
> 
> But at last! Wonwoo's backstory! Will I ever not give Wonwoo a tragic past? ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> Stay tuned, everyone, next week is gonna be action-packed! With guest appearances by very special peeps! Thank you very much for reading!  
> xoxoxo


	21. Cat and Mouse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WonHui must go to Krius' castle for a rescue mission.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And behind door #1 is...! lol
> 
> Warning for very mild and non-graphic violence
> 
> -

 

 

“God dammit!” Wonwoo muttered under his breath, tucking the gun into his waistband. He dropped to his knees, allowing Junhui to see the limp body of a brown-haired male, slumped on the porch, face-down. Immediately, Wonwoo searched for a pulse, jerkily yanking on the scarf to reach the man’s neck. “He’s okay.”

It wasn’t until the body was flipped onto his back that Junhui realized why Wonwoo had been so quick to check the vital signs of a stranger.

With round eyes, he uttered in disbelief, “Mingyu?”

While Wonwoo dragged him inside and laid him in front of the fire, Junhui locked the door and ran to the little kitchen, grabbing a pot. He poured in one of their water canteens and set it on the hearth to warm the water up. Sitting by Mingyu now, he stared at the younger’s battered face.

The scratches on his cheeks and hands gave the impression that he fought with the forest and lost. His navy coat was flung open, missing most of its buttons; his green sweater had several rips, and his jeans and shoes were covered in mud.

“What happened to him?” Junhui wondered aloud. “And... How did he end up here?”

Aside from his discreet aid and involvement with Wonwoo, Mingyu was an upstanding citizen by the town’s standards. Moreover, he was rather satisfied with his life as it was. He had no reason to be running in the woods at night like a madman. Was he chased? Did he try to escape something? Junhui felt a pang of sympathy for the younger boy.

Wonwoo didn’t comment, but his creased brows and scowl were enough to indicate his aversion to the situation.

Once the water was warm, Junhui dipped in a towel and wrung it out, pressing it over Mingyu’s forehead to try to wake him up gently. After a few minutes, his eyes fluttered open, and he groaned as his body registered his injuries. Junhui sat back on his legs, waiting for him to fully come to.

“Mingyu,” his friend called firmly. “Wake up.”

Recognizing the familiar voice, he bolted upright, whipping his head from Wonwoo to Junhui, his eyes wild and frantic. “I can’t believe I actually found you guys,” he whispered, the urgency overpowering the relief. He grabbed each of their arms. “You have to help me. Minghao’s gone! They took him!”

Junhui cast a questioning look toward Wonwoo— _who’s Minghao?_ —but he was too busy asking his own questions to respond.

“What are you talking about? Start from the beginning.”

Groaning, Mingyu mussed his hair, scratching at his scalp furiously. “Yesterday afternoon, Chan came in asking about you two. I’m not an idiot. Whenever someone asks about you, it’s never to find out how you’re doing health-wise,” he said as he eyed Wonwoo. “So I told him that I haven’t seen you in days, which is true, and that I didn’t even know who Junhui is. Now get this,” he cleared his throat, ready to tell the others something quite unbelievable. “He _threatened_ me. Kwon Lee Chan _threatened_ me! He’s like, what? A five-six kid?”

“Get to the point,” Wonwoo urged.

“I am!” he shouted back. “The kid said that unless I cooperated and told him what he wanted, he’d come after me next. I didn’t take him seriously, and stuck to my answers. Not getting anything from me, he left, and I thought that was the end of it. Just empty threats. By the time I returned to the apartment, this box was left for me, and Hao was gone.”

Searching his pockets, he fished out a palm-sized, golden box. He opened it to reveal a small white feather and a ring. Accompanying it was a note in scripts:

 

_I surely hope you enjoy roasted dove. Please join me for dinner Friday evening at 6:00._

 

Reading the note, Junhui’s eyes bulged as the pieces fell into place. That was an engagement ring. Minghao must be his fiancé—possibly the young man in the picture on his desk—and as punishment for not revealing Wonwoo’s whereabouts, Minghao had been kidnapped and transformed into a dove, to be roasted tomorrow unless Mingyu confessed before then. His stomach churned, suddenly feeling nauseous.

“The bastard is gonna kill him,” Mingyu shook his head, distraught, pushing his hands into his hair again. “All because I—” His eyes darted to Junhui’s, which cut off his sentence. The witchling looked away to avoid further eye contact.

Junhui couldn’t help but feel responsible for his plight. Obviously, Krius had captured Minghao because he’s a monster and enjoyed torturing people to get what he wanted. However, it didn’t lessen the weight on Junhui’s conscience. It was partially his fault that an innocent boy had been captured.

Moreover, he couldn’t help but recall what he and Mingyu had argued about that first time. Junhui had wanted the younger to wake up from his apathetic dreamland, to do more than turn a blind eye and deaf ear. But he didn’t expect that the cost of rousing him into action would be the lost of a loved one. Junhui supposed it was only human nature, though. Everyone can care, but you don’t start to act until it becomes personal.

To distract himself, Junhui pulled out Hayun’s diagram and the rubbings Wonwoo had made of the symbols on Pillar D. As the friends continued to talk, Junhui worked on fitting the new symbols into the diagram.

Mingyu, clearing his throat, shrugged off his wet coat. “Why, pray tell, is Chan working for Krius in the first place?” he demanded.

Being the calm and collected one, Wonwoo sighed and replied with a question of his own, “Why do we do all the things that we do? Because there’s something beneficial to us. Krius undoubtedly made him a deal.”

His friend growled out in frustration again, making a face. At the rate he was scratching his scalp and yanking at his hair, Junhui feared he might go bald by sunrise.

“And would that deal entail getting a new brain?” Mingyu snapped. “What on Earth would possess him to think it’sgood idea?”

“The kid’s smarter than you think,” Wonwoo warned. “He wanted to check that I hadn’t doubled back, which is why he asked if you had seen me lately.”

“Doubled-back?” he repeated, confused.

Wonwoo shook his head. “To get rid of me, he persuaded Krius to let me leave the island. I’m no longer bound by the Pact.”

Now it was Mingyu’s jaw that hung open. “Then what the hell are you still doing here?”

The absentminded question ticked Wonwoo off. “Trying to help people like you,” he barked out.

“Sorry, I uh...” Mingyu lowered his head, sighing tiredly. “My brain to mouth filter isn’t working right now.”

Sympathetically, Wonwoo dismissed the topic, focusing on comforting his friend. Putting a hand on his shoulder, he shook it. “We’re gonna get Minghao back,” he assured him confidently, meeting Junhui’s gaze over Mingyu’s bowed head.

Junhui nodded despite the fear visibly shaking his hands. Not wanting either of them to notice, he put away the homework and knotted his fingers together.

“Out of curiosity,” Wonwoo asked lightly, although Junhui knew he considered the situation as anything but. “How did you find us?”

Smacking his forehead—then hissing in pain at the impact—Mingyu exclaimed, “I can’t believe I almost forgot about it.” He patted his pockets and fished out a wrinkled and damp sheet of paper, along with a small pouch. “This little kid stopped me on the street and gave me a compass, saying I’d find people who can help me by using it. And I’m supposed to give them—you—this message.” He shrugged. “But I think it’s written in invisible ink or something, because the paper is blank.”

“A little kid?” Junhui echoed. Mingyu glanced at him and nodded, mirroring his own disbelief expression.

“Let me see that.” Wonwoo took the extended note to study it.

Apparently, he found nothing wrong with a kid just popping up and giving people cryptic directions. Wait a second... Could it have been Freya Blodwen in disguise? She certainly enjoyed sending people on quests rather than actually giving them help.

Disturbing the musings, Wonwoo scooted closer to him and the fire. He waved the sheet over the heat, and letters began to appear faintly. After quickly scanning it, he handed it to Junhui. “It’s all you.”

Eyeing him, Junhui accepted the note with trepidation. There was only one reason Wonwoo would push off the responsibility to him—the task required magic.

 

_Junhui, choose an everyday object, something that can easily be concealed. Once Minghao is within reach, place the object next to him. Sprinkle half of the powder on both of them. Minghao will turn into the object and vice versa. When ready, place Minghao next to something that belongs to him and sprinkle the powder, reciting the incantation. He will return to his human form if you do it correctly. Be mindful not to waste the powder._

 

What incantation? _Gah!_ As if going into the wolf den wasn’t frightening enough, now Junhui had to work around transfiguration? _Holy shoot…_ Just when he got a moderate handle on one type of spell, more appear. He puffed up his cheeks and blew out a breath. Wonwoo gave him a sympathetic smile.

Mingyu eyed the witchling skeptically after taking a look at the instructions. “You can do it, right?”

_Yeah, of course!_

Junhui pressed his hands over his eyes, a nervous laugh tumbling out of his lips. He can’t let Mingyu down. “I’ll do my best.”

Apparently, it did the trick. For the first time since he got here, he looked relieved, his handsome face brightening up.

“Well, then,” he said enthusiastically. “All we need to do is sneak into the castle, find Minghao, change him into...” he looked around, picking up a writing utensil sitting nearby. “Change him into a pen! And then we’ll come back here to finish the spell.” Pointing to Wonwoo, he exclaimed, “You’ve been in there before. You know the way around, right?”

Wonwoo regarded him with narrowed eyes and a very unamused expression. “Right,” he ground out. “It’ll be just like a walk in the park.”

Mingyu, sensing his irritation, backed off. “Okay, I’ll uh... I guess I’ll leave the planning to you two, then. Just tell me what I can do to help.”

Junhui wanted to say that he didn’t know much about planning, either, but Wonwoo put an end to it before he could speak up.

“It’s late,” he said. “And we’ve all had a long day. We’ll pick it up tomorrow.”

 

Early the next morning, as Junhui tossed around to find a more comfortable position on the hardwood floor, he noticed Wonwoo. Awake for some time now, he sat a few feet away with a piece of paper and a pen, his brows furrowed in concentration. Junhui shifted his gaze to his left to see Mingyu curled up and still asleep. Wonwoo bending down to mark the paper pulled his attention back to him again.

It took the working boy a couple minutes to notice the witchling. “Hey,” he called softly.

“Hi. Did you sleep at all?” Junhui inquired, voice still thick with sleep. He reached up to rub his eyes.

Wonwoo shrugged, smiling ruefully, and scratched his chin. “Yeah, a little.”

“You need to do something about that bird’s nest on your head,” Junhui remarked, giggling quietly at the cute sight. Maybe it was the lingering fatigue that made him talk about such trivial matters.

Chuckling, Wonwoo rolled his eyes. He didn’t mind humoring him, though. “You wouldn’t happen to know any glamour spell, do you?”

“If I did, I would have already tried it on myself,” he retorted with a small laugh.

At that point, Wonwoo’s eyes seemed to _really_ focus on Junhui, as if he hadn’t noticed the disheveled, bed-ragged hair, bare face, or dirty and wrinkled clothes until now. Junhui felt the urge to pull the pillow from under his head and crush it over his face.

“You don’t need a glamour spell, though,” he mused, barely audible, almost as if the thought wasn’t meant to be spoken out loud. Junhui will pretend not to have heard it.

Self-consciously, the latter cleared his throat and nodded toward the paper. “What are you doing?”

“Um.” Wonwoo snapped out of it, scratching at his bedhead. “Strategizing. Pillar E is between our current location and Alaric Castle. Smart time management would entail stopping at Pillar E on the way, but…” he cast a glance over his shoulder at Mingyu’s sleeping form, “But it wouldn’t be fair to him and Minghao.”

As desperate to stop Krius as he was, he couldn’t delay saving Minghao for the sake of their mission. How the tables have turned...

“The invitation says six o’clock, so I’m aiming for four at the latest,” he continued, going through his notes. “It’s six miles to the castle, so if we leave within the hour, taking in potential detours and the rain, we should be able to arrive before noon. Three teams patrol the castle grounds at all times, with a window of fifteen minutes in between them. Once through the gates, we’ll sneak into the backdoor, passing by the kitchen and up the servants’ staircase. Beyond that point, we’ll need to keep our ears open for where he locked up Minghao.”

Junhui swallowed, already nervous from the mere thoughts of going straight into danger, especially knowing a scary monster wanted to catch him. “So I have less than three hours to come up with a transfiguration spell,” he murmured, pushing himself up to a sitting position. “No pressure, just the love of his life, right?”

Wonwoo snorted, rolling his eyes at the sarcasm.

As Junhui attempted to comb his hair with his numb fingers, Wonwoo said gently, “I’m gonna need your help handling Mingyu.”

Junhui stopped fighting the knots. “Huh?”

“You saw how over-zealous he got last night,” he elaborated. “He might get frustrated with the way our plan goes, or decide to split and search on his own, or a million other things I can’t predict. All I’m saying is, when people are stressed, they tend to do crazy things. I don’t want him to do something reckless and get himself killed.”

Junhui nodded thoughtfully. “Right. Um…” What could he do to rein in a guy half a head taller and weighing twenty pounds more than him?

“Just keep him focused,” Wonwoo asked of him.

Junhui nodded affirmably.

 

The moment Junhui laid eyes on the fort, he knew it had to be it. Just as Wonwoo had predicted, it had taken them about two hours, with another mile left to go. They stood at the top of a ledge overlooking the valley, which swept out to the western cliffs of the island. Among the robust pine trees, sharp spires poked through. The towers of the dark castle were circled by dozens of black crows, cawing incessantly, dodging in and out of the gray clouds. He couldn’t help but shiver at the ominous scene.

The castle itself appeared to be sitting on the edge of the cliff, perhaps even carved out of the rocky mountain itself. Beyond it, the waves angrily beat against the rocks, spraying ocean mist in the air and onto the façade of the fortress.

The fact that the scene had rendered Mingyu speechless led Junhui to believe that he had never ventured anywhere nearby, either. Although Junhui knew it was wrong to draw contentment from someone’s apprehension, he couldn’t help but feel relieved that Mingyu had released the death-grip around his arm; he could barely feel the blood flow starting up again.

Junhui was no stranger to anxiety and clinginess, but he could hardly handle his own agitation without Mingyu adding more stress to it. It had started out quite pleasantly, for the situation at least. Wonwoo took the lead as usual, leaving them to stick to each other. The two of them chatted as they went, mostly Mingyu asking questions and Junhui trying to answer them as best he could. Unfortunately, as the replies became more riddled with doubts and worries, Mingyu’s grip on his arm turned painful. He knew it was a nervous tick, and he tried to be understanding, but his arm was going numb.

For the remaining mile out of the woods, Mingyu kept his hands in his pockets and grew very quiet. Without the distraction of conversation, Junhui’s stomach churned with each step closer to the castle.

As soon as the group could spot the huge iron gates across from the main road, a pack of guards walked by the rampart, prompting the boys to halt and duck in the bushes.

Once the patrol moved past, the boys quickly crossed the dirt road, avoiding mud puddles to not leave behind footsteps. As Wonwoo kept a lookout for the next squad, Junhui stared at the gothic castle.

It was both beautiful and frightening with its exquisite carvings of gargoyles, arches, and statues. Due to the constant rain, every surface permanently appeared damp and cold. When gusts of wind swept past, the moss-covered towers distorted the sound to howl like anguished souls, which added to the haunting atmosphere enveloping the grounds.

After the second group of guards passed by, the boys scaled the uneven wall, bypassing the side-gate. As they cautiously made their way through the courtyard, Junhui realized with a shiver that the guards and barriers were used to keep people in, rather than to keep them out.

Wonwoo, having spotted the armory, began to put into effect his distraction plan. He managed to pick the lock, and within minutes, they gained access to the building. Inside, Mingyu quickly went around dislodging the hanging oil lamps, sprinkling the accelerant to all the corners of the shed. In the meantime, Wonwoo opened a case of gunpowder and poured out a trail leading outside.

Afterward, as the group stood at a safe distance, Junhui flicked a flame onto a piece of paper and lit the gunpowder. The spark ran rapidly along the black trail. Gradually, dark smoke built and squeezed out of the windows.

The back of the shed exploded soon after, sending wood planks several feet in the air. The rest of the armory quickly caught fire. A couple more minutes and bullets went off like firecrackers, breaking glass panes, shooting through the roof. At that point, the spectacle started to attract the attention of the servants. They screamed in alarm, calling for the patrolling guards. Before long, a crowd formed, trying to extinguish the fire. Their fear of the shrapnel shooting out kept them busy.

The boys took their chance and snuck past them.

Feet by feet, they made it to the servants’ door. Wonwoo poked his head over the dirty window sill to check that it was empty. Certain of it, he proceeded to crack the door open. After making sure a second time that no one was there, he waved Mingyu and Junhui in. They all scurried like mice to the hall, listening for voices and footsteps. Hearing nothing of interest, they climbed the stairs to the first floor. Junhui seriously had no idea how they were going to find a small bird in the middle of this maze.

The second they emerged from the stairs to the floor, Junhui thought they’d stepped through a portal to another universe. Big, sparkling chandeliers hung all the way down the long corridor, bathing the floor in a bright glow, setting off the reflections in the decorative vases and stained glass windows. On the marble floor, thick and intricate rugs softened their footsteps. It was obvious Krius wanted his new persona to be as distinct from his lowly background as possible.

No matter how many pieces of art he coveted, though, it would never be enough to disguise his black soul.

The East Wing of the first floor housed nothing but empty bedrooms. The North Wing held the library and smaller studies. They climbed to the second floor, with its corridors serving as art galleries. As they tried to find their way, they heard someone approaching.

They pushed open a door at random and hid. The room was dark and cold, but it appeared to be some kind of sitting room. Junhui was too busy pressing his ear to the door to pay attention to the surrounding. A second set of footsteps joined the first one. The two stopped upon seeing each other, it seemed.

“Did they put out the fire?” the first man asked.

“Yes, but they’re still cleaning up the mess,” the other, older man, answered.

“Do they know what caused it?”

“No idea. Anyway, before the fire, Mrs. Park was looking for you. She wants you to bring down the pigeon to the kitchen. Once the maids finish at the armory, they’ll start on the Master’s dinner.”

Behind Junhui, Mingyu jumped like someone had electrocuted him. He reached for the knob, ready to jump out at them. Junhui immediately elbowed him in the ribs to stop his foolish attempt. He let out a painful huff and grabbed at his side. Wincing, Junhui quickly rubbed at the spot in apology. Wonwoo clicked his tongue at them.

Fortunately for all of them, the servants hadn’t picked up on the discord in the room. The second man gave the other a few more chores, and the two parted ways.

As soon as their steps died out, Wonwoo opened the door a couple inches wide. The younger man was heading for the end of the hall, while the other was nowhere in sight. The group snuck out and followed after him. As soon as he entered the last room, the boys heard the sound of wings flapping inside a confinement.

Wonwoo and Mingyu raced down the hall.

When Junhui skidded to a stop at the doorway, he saw the servant approach a golden cage, inside of which a very scared dove threw itself at the wires, attempting to escape. Wonwoo, right behind the servant, grabbed his collar and yanked him away from the cage. Before the man could scream, Wonwoo knocked him out, and he collapsed on the marble floor.

Mingyu unknotted the sash around the curtains and threw it over at Wonwoo to tie the servant up. Then he ran to the cage, relief evident in his smile. He spoke softly to the bird, and Minghao seemed to recognize him, since he stopped fighting. The dove cocked his head to the side, watching and listening to the boy’s soft reassurances.

“We’re going to get you out, Hao,” he said, “But it’s going to be tricky. Just trust us, okay?”

The dove blinked, cooing.

Mingyu turned to Junhui with pleading eyes.

“O—okay.” The witchling tried to ignore the boys’ gazes as he pulled out the pen and slipped it through the gap between the metal wires. Next, he poured out half of the orange powder into his palm. Holding his breath, Junhui sprinkled it over both. Minghao began to shrink, while the pen grew. Progressively, the white feathers changed to a grayish tint, and finally _poof!_ In the dove’s spot laid a pen, and next to it, a white dove walked back and forth.

“You did it.” Wonwoo nudged his arm with a smile. “Breathe, kitten.”

At his remark, Junhui remembered and let it out. His head swam a little, but he was ecstatic that it worked.

Mingyu, somewhat less enthusiastic now that his fiancé was a pen, opened the cage to retrieve and carefully pocket it— _him?_

Wonwoo turned his attention to the knocked-out servant and checked the knots around his wrist once more. Junhui opened the armoire nearby and pushed aside the items inside to make room. The two dragged the lackey over and locked him inside. It would be a while before anyone realized he was missing, giving them time to escape. Hopefully.

Inconspicuously, the group made their way back to the first floor. By now, the ruckus in the courtyard had been silenced, and the staff was resuming their daily activities. A group of three maids pushing along a cart down the corridor forced the boys to take refuge behind the immediate door. As the fugitives waited for the staff to move on, Junhui prayed with everything he had that the maids wouldn’t enter this room. His prayers were heard, miraculously; the wheels squeaked past their door along with the girls’ soft chatter.

When Junhui reached to turn the knob, though, voices in the adjacent room made him pause. Two men were speaking, one higher pitched than the other.

“I’m afraid that most of the firearms and ammunitions have been damaged, Master.”

“Hmm, what a shame. Remind me to replace everything.” The second man had the higher-pitched voice, with a mocking and creepy glee to it. Was that Krius?

Junhui looked up, meeting Wonwoo’s gaze. He nodded, reading the question on the witchling’s face. They listened for more information.

“Yes, yes, Master. I will write it down,” the lackey responded. It didn’t take much imagination to tell he was cowering. Although his words poured out with overt enthusiasm, he was shaking from fear. Junhui envisioned him to be a short and rotund man in his fifties.

“Are you still there, Hubert?” Krius asked, distracted by something.

“Y-yes, sir. I had... I had a question,” Hubert hesitated. Krius must have gestured for him to go on, because he continued with a bit more confidence. “You mentioned that you were going to allow me a favor as a reward for being your servant for all these years.”

“Ah! Yes, have you decided what sort of feast you’d like?”

“N-not a feast, sir. I-I’d like to see my wife again... sir.”

His request surprised Krius. “By all means! Haven’t I let your family live with you in your quarters?”

“No, I mean, yes! I mean...” He paused to gather himself and probably stop his shaking. “My dear Marie died a hundred years ago, sir. If you could bring her back to life—even for just a day, I would—”

The boys all jumped at the shrill laugh that erupted out of Krius. His cackles sounded like the most unnatural laughter Junhui had ever heard. Goosebumps made him shiver.

“Hubert,” he called once his fit ended, “What have you done to your sensibleness? I have many talents, but bringing back the dead isn’t among one of them.”

“I beg your pardon, sir. I don’t understand. I heard you promise the boy. I saw with my own eyes his brother appearing—”

His comments prompted another fit of laughter, followed by someone hitting the furniture. By the groans, Junhui inferred Hubert either fell or was pushed over. Poor man.

“You brought back his brother,” Hubert still insisted in between moans of pain due to his fall.

Wonwoo and Junhui shared a look. Was that what Krius had promised Chan? To return Soonyoung in exchange of Junhui’s capture? But apparently it couldn’t be done. He had tricked him. _Shocking…_

“The art of lying and illusions, Hubert! I believed you smarter than this.”

The old man mumbled something in response, but it was too low for Junhui to make out.

Krius cleared his throat, tired of the current topic. “Now stop lounging around and go fetch me the Pact. I believe it’s time for a quick inventory,” he ordered, then started to hum absentmindedly. Hubert walked across the room and returned to his master’s side.

 _Wait,_ _what?_

If Krius had the Pact in the castle, then what the heck was locked away in the lighthouse? The same confused and bewildered expression on his face was reflected on Wonwoo’s when Junhui glanced over.

“The coast is clear,” Mingyu muttered. Junhui had been so intent on eavesdropping, he hadn’t even noticed the younger surveying the hallway through the crack. “Let’s go!”

They exited the room one by one, looking both sides like crossing the street. Suddenly, Krius’ humming stopped. His voice echoed eerily down the hall.

“I think we may have some uninvited guests today!”

Immediately, his door banged open, and Hubert appeared. His eyes bulged, darting to each of the boys’ faces. Before Hubert had time to move, guards poured out from behind him. The boys ran as fast they could down the hall, jumping over and pushing away staff members as they came toward them. Screams and shouts vibrated through the huge castle over the sound of gunfire.

Every corner they turned, guards rushed out at them, showering bullets. Mingyu took the lead, running much faster than the other two. His lungs burned as Junhui tried to catch up to him, especially keeping him in his line of vision. Mingyu turned down a corner.

A gun went off right by Junhui’s side, and he yelped, whipping around.

“Keep going!” Wonwoo shouted as he took down two more guards. “Follow Mingyu!”

Junhui gulped, wanting to argue, but he obeyed. He raced down the hall, ears ringing with the sound of guns firing. He cut the corner, hoping to catch up to the younger.

A coarse, gloved-hand yanked his arm backward. Junhui screamed, certain the guard had dislocated his shoulder. The black-armored man shook the boy some more, attempting to take him away, but he dragged his feet.

“Let go of me!” Junhui yelled, fighting his way out of the grip as best as he could.

“Shut up!” he roared.

Overpowering the boy, the guard jerked the boy’s right arm behind his back and held both of his wrists in his giant hand. Junhui heard the clanging of metal a second before the cold cuff clamped over his left wrist.

His head whipped to the side, and Junhui sent a nearby flower vase at his assailant’s head. The guard stumbled back with a grunt, but didn’t lose consciousness as the witchling had hoped. Junhui chucked the stand at him next, and while he attempted to recover from the blow, Junhui glanced upward and released the chandelier. Junhui covered his ears and shut his eyes the moment it dropped. The heavy metal knocked the guard out and trapped him underneath.

With hisbreath returning to him, Junhui retraced his steps to search for Wonwoo. He found him two corners down, surrounded by ten or so men, guns all pointed at him. They backed him up against the wall. Junhui looked upward, hoping to use the same tactic to get rid of them, but the closest chandelier was several feet away. If he were to drop it too far away, the shock might cause them to open fire, and Wonwoo could get hurt.

His eyes darted to the rug. It only covered the middle of the floor; the sides were left bare. Wonwoo, his back against the wall, wasn’t standing on the rug. With a really good tug, Junhui could knock the guards off of their feet.

The witchling widened his stance, and as they slowly approached Wonwoo, he put hisrock-levitating lessons to good use. His mind grabbed the corners of the rug, his hands mimicking the gesture, and he pulled as hard as his powers allowed.

Yelling out in shock, the enemies fell like pieces of dominos. Wonwoo lost no time. He jumped and trampled over them to reach Junhui, avoiding the rug altogether. Once he got away, Junhui shoved them against the opposite wall. Moans and groans floated in the air as the duo ran to look for Mingyu.

“Wonwoo!” Junhui stopped him, seeing the blood stains by his shoulders and arms. “You’ve been sho—”

“They’re just grazed bullets,” he explained quickly. “I’m fine. We gotta find Mingyu and get out of here.”Not letting him say anything else, Wonwoo started to run again.

Around the next corner, another group spotted them from the floor below. Bullets rained everywhere, followed by boots stomping behind them. Finally, they reached the right hall. Miraculously, the troops still hadn’t caught up to them.

“Mingyu!” Wonwoo shouted.

The third door at the end clicked open, and his head popped out. He frantically waved at them. The two ran toward the room, and Mingyu widened the opening to let them in. After they crashed in, he locked it.

Panting, Junhui sunk against the wall. He closed his eyes, hearing his breath in his ears. He pressed a hand over his chest, hoping to calm his pounding heart a little. When he opened his eyes a couple minutes later, he examined the room they found themselves in. The curtains were pulled tight, letting in no light from the outside whatsoever, which made it rather difficult to discern much of anything in the hazy shadows. Mingyu manned the door once more, while Wonwoo headed for the windows to find them a way out.

Junhui turned to follow, when suddenly, a click came from the opposite wall. Wonwoo whirled around.

“Duck!” he shouted, pushing on the boy’s shoulders. They fell flat on their stomachs right as several objects hurled over their heads. Junhui shut his eyes, covering his head reflexively. The objects made impact on the wall behind them one by one.

“What the hell was that?” Mingyu whisper-yelled, scrambling to his feet. He plucked an arrow from the wall. “He’s insane!”

“Did you just figure that out?” Wonwoo muttered.

As if to show them just how crazy Krius could get, the ground began to shake violently, knocking over the various furniture. His body reacting faster than his mind could think about it, Junhui grasped onto Wonwoo’s arm. He tightened his hold on the witchling and reached for a point of purchase. At that moment, the chandelier dropped and crashed through the floorboards. Mingyu and Junhui shrieked from the shock alone.

But it only got worse.

The floorboards collapsed under the weight, and the chandelier fell through. One by one, the planks crumbled and broke away.

Junhui screamed upon seeing the completely black hole that opened up beneath them, sucking up the air and anything around it. In utter terror, he watched the broken floorboards and chair tumble down the bottomless gap.

The force of the vortex combined with the earthquake knocked the boys off balance, and they hit their knees on the floor. The windows blew open; the curtains flew in the air, flapping maddeningly.

“Jun! Hold on!” Wonwoo shouted over the chaos, fingers tightening around the witchling’s. He had managed to grab onto the radiator pipe in the wall, but realistically, he couldn’t hold their combined weights for too long.

Another powerful quake raked through, breaking off a giant chunk of the floor. The shock dislodged Junhui’s grip on him.

Junhui screamed, skidding back. His legs dangled over the hole, his arms fighting to keep his torso on the floor. Junhui clawed at the planks to get a grip, but the broken edges bit into his chest and stomach as he heaved himself up unsuccessfully. The violent winds and the dust flying all over forced his eyes shut and sucked all the air away. He gasped, unable to catch his breath.

“Mingyu!” he heard Wonwoo shout. “Help me and pull him up! Please!”

“I can’t!”

“Mingyu! Listen to me! If you—”

The small table in the corner tumbled forward, plunging into the black depths. Had Junhui been two feet over, it would have taken him with it. Junhui pried his eyes open and kept them open as wide as he could, only to see the bookcase shaking side to side, ready to drop. If that case headed this way, there was no way he’d be able to dodge it.

With all the strength in him, Junhui turned his body to the side, attempting to yank his leg out of the vacuum to swing it over the edge. But it was fruitless. His muscles ached too much. He couldn’t fight against the force of the vortex. Even if he managed to get his leg up, his arms would give out before he could haul himself up.

“You idiot! Just reach out and grab his arm!” Wonwoo still shouted at Mingyu somewhere Junhui couldn’t tell. The latter didn’t dare turn around to see, otherwise he’d lose his grip and fall in.

“He’s too far away! I’ll fall in!” Migyu argued. “I’m sorry, but I can’t! I need to save Minghao!”

The bookcase collapsed on its front. But thankfully, its mass was keeping it in place momentarily. Junhui didn’t have time to rejoice the small reprieve, though. No more than five seconds later, the vortex tugged it toward Junhui. He squeezed his eyes shut and readied himself for the impact.

“Grab my hand!”

Junhui lifted his head to find Wonwoo holding his hand out for him. Without hesitating, Junhui let go and took his hand. He managed to climb out, thanks to his grip. Wonwoo drew the boy toward him, fighting the vortex. Junhui dug his feet firmly on the floor, tucking his head against his partner’s chest. He followed Wonwoo’s lead until he felt the faint rain drops on his neck.

Wonwoo had used the cord tying the curtains as a rope. He knotted it several times around the pipe and wrapped the other end around his arm. With that, he had advanced carefully over to Junhui and gotten the boy out. Out here by the windows, the vortex didn’t have as much of an effect, but if Junhui lost his footing, he would certainly fall right back where he started.

Another quake shook the floor. Fortunately, the boys didn’t their grips this time. The shock caused more planks to break away and drop into the abyss, though. The bookcase soon followed, skidding down to the edge, and teetering there.

“Climb out!” Wonwoo directed, putting a hand on Junhui’s back to urge him.

Junhui looked over the window sill to see a ledge about half a foot wide, wrapped along the wall. The distance from here to the ground was more than fifteen feet, which meant at least broken ankles if this cord gave out.

“We can’t jump from here!” he argued over the whirlwinds.

“You got a better idea?” Wonwoo retorted, yanking on the curtains. Was he really going to try to scale down the wall like escaped convicts did on TV?

Junhui scanned the courtyard. His eyes zoned in on a ladder leaning against the rampart. “Actually, I do.” And with that, Junhui focused and relocated it to the window. Its height didn’t quite reach them; they’d still have to climb out onto the ledge, but it was a much safer alternative than jumping straight down.

Wonwoo nodded upon seeing the ladder. “Great. Let’s go.”

Ignoring the trembles in his body, Junhui swung his legs one by one over the sill and hugged the wall. On the ledge, Junhui inhaled deeply and squatted down, putting a foot to reach the first rung. From there, he held on to the top and descended. Wonwoo quickly followed after him. When he reached the ground, he turned to go, tugging Junhui urgently with him.

“What about Mingyu? Where is he?”

“He managed to reach the door and left,” he growled out, pressing his back against the wall to looked around the corner.

Junhui frowned. Did that happen right after the table plummeted into the black hole? How could he just leave like that? What if Junhui had died, who would save his precious fiancé? Disregarding Junhui, the least he could do is help his injured friend out. This cursed island really turned people selfish and idiotic.

Seeing no threat, the duo ran out of the courtyard the same way they had come in. It weirded Junhui out that no one was chasing them, shooting at them, or otherwise stopping them. Nothing good could come from this.

At the gate, tucked between the stone wall and the iron bars, a white card with their names fluttered in the wind. Wonwoo pulled it out and flipped it over. It was the same handwriting as the invitation Mingyu got.

 

_Congratulations! You’ve proven yourselves to be quite the team—worthy opponents, if I may add. I cannot wait for our next meeting._

_Please extend my best wishes to your friends, Mingyu and Minghao._

 

The pair didn’t stop running until they were deep in the forest, and a river blocked their immediate path. Junhui slumped down on a rock, fighting for oxygen, while Wonwoo fell to his knees next to him. Wonwoo bent over and splashed some fresh water onto his face and leaned back on the rock, head cushioned on Junhui’s lap. He breathed heavily.

The run had overheated his body, so Junhui took off his jacket along with his backpack. He stared at the river, this one much less menacing than the one he had fallen into: its flow gentler and its width only twenty feet or so. It felt comforting staring at something so calm and constant, the complete opposite to his current state of mind.

Junhui wasn’t quite sure where to start, so he just picked the last event. “That fiasco was nothing but a game of cat and mouse for him, wasn’t it?”

Wonwoo pushed up his sleeves and sighed. “Yeah, and we played right into it.”

“How much does he actually know, though?” Junhui wondered. “Obviously, he knows you’ve returned now. But I mean, his note suggests that he knew we came with Mingyu for Minghao. He had to know that Mingyu would find us.”

“You think he let Freya Blodwen guide Mingyu?”

“Don’t you?”

He shook his head. “Remember that before he kidnapped Minghao, he sent Chan out to question Mingyu. They think he’s withholding information, so they took drastic measures to force him to bring us to them.” Glancing up, he met the other’s gaze. “If Krius even suspected that his old teacher is planning something, he wouldn’t sit there toying with us. For an imp with stolen magic, he has a gigantic ego. He doesn’t believe you can beat him in the long run.”

“Maybe he’s right,” Junhui mumbled. “I mean, you saw what happened. I couldn’t do anything against that black hole. My powers...” he trailed off. “My powers were basically useless in that room. Had it not been for you, I would’ve been sucked into oblivion! And that was just a game. Just imagine what it’ll be like if I actually have to confront him.”

Wonwoo frowned, turning around to face him properly. He pressed his hands over Junhui’s and shook them so he’d look at him.

“Now’s not the time to doubt yourself, moonlight. You’re stronger than you realize, than even _he_ realizes. Freya Blodwen wouldn’t have asked for your help if she didn’t think you had potential. He’s had centuries to steal and cheat his way to the top; you’ve had less than a week to learn how to use your powers.

“You fought and won against merciless soldiers and killers on your own, you saved me numerous times with and without your magic. If that’s not impressive, I don’t want what is.” He smiled, the gesture so honest and earnest, the witchling couldn’t help responding to it.

Junhui cracked a smiled and nodded, trying to convey all of his gratitude. “Thank you,” he croaked.

His dark eyes softened even more if that were possible, as he squeezed the boy’s fingers. Wonwoo pushed himself to his feet and pulled Junhui up with him. Letting go of his hand momentarily, he retrieved his compass and adjusted it.

“Pillar E is just beyond those trees,” he indicated over his shoulder. “Are you up for it?”

“What about Mingyu?” Junhui wanted to know. As angry as he was with him for leaving them like that, he couldn’t really forget about him.

Wonwoo heaved an annoyed sigh. “He’s probably back at the old house. We can go back there now and go to the Pillar in a few hours if you’re tired.”

Junhui shook his head. “No, we’ve wasted enough time already. I’m just a little worried about him.”

“He’s not of any value to Krius anymore,” Wonwoo sounded certain. “As long as he stays out of sight, he’ll be fine.”

Junhui put his jacket back on and swung the backpack over his shoulders. With less energy than usual, they walked along the rocky riverbank toward their next stop.

Eventually, they reached a small hill. As they began to climb it, rain drops fell through the foliage and hit them. Beneath his feet, a low vibration started; they were getting close to the Pillar. Almost at the top of the hill, they laid on their stomachs and peeked over it for any sign of an ambush. The stone monolith stood by itself in the middle of the trees, its surface darkening with each rain drop hitting it.

There were no signs of Krius’ men, and that worried Junhui greatly. Wonwoo rose on his elbows and picked up a pebble. Aiming it for the bushes below, he threw it as hard as he could to see whether it would cause the hidden men to jump out.

Nothing aside from a scared squirrel scurried away.

Why would his men not be posted here?

The boys didn’t linger on the why. All they knew was that no one was around, which meant they could get what needed to be done and leave. It was just as good, because the rain was picking up. Carefully, they scaled down the hill and approached the circle around the Pillar. Junhui lowered the shield with ease now, and they set off to work, dividing the tasks.

Blinking the water from his eyes, Junhui read the inscription: _Let me be as unyielding as the rainstorms._ As he thought about the correct wording, he turned to Wonwoo. Since it rained so much, he couldn’t do the rubbings. Instead, he sketched out the designs directly on the blank page of the notebook.

Wiping his face, Junhui shifted his gaze back to the Pillar, staring at the streams of rainwater coursing down the grooves and cracks of the rock. By dint of staring at it, the inspiration came to him. _Wash away my wicked resolve and dark intent with the rain._

The moment the piece of chalk left the rock, an ear-piercing screech punctured the air. The sheer shrill of it made him drop the chalk and cover his ears in pain. Junhui looked up in the direction of the sound.

A huge, black shadow swept straight down toward them. Junhui screamed, ducking right as the fierce bird dove for him. Right before Junhui hit the ground, covering his head, he could have sworn the beast extended out its talons as if trying to grab him. The wind blew over his head as it flew past.

“Are you okay?” Wonwoo asked, pulling him up to his feet.

“Yeah, I think—It’s coming back!” Junhui yelled, pushing him down. The falcon screeched, its talons huge and sharp, repeating its attack.

“Junhui! Move!”

His arms shot to cover his face, and Junhui slumped downward. He wasn’t fast enough, though. The bird whizzed by, its claws grabbing him, digging into his skin, tearing at it through his jacket and sweater. The impact sent his backward into the dirt.

Satisfied, the bird screeched one last time and flapped its wings to gain altitude above the thick foliage. Like a bullet, it vanished through the leaves.

Groaning, Junhui tried to clear his head, feeling the throbbing from hitting it so hard. He reached for the spot, but the stinging from the damn bird jolted him to a stop.

“Careful,” Wonwoo advised, pulling the shredded sleeve up a little to examine his wrist and hand. “It doesn’t look too severe,” he said, wincing sympathetically at the cuts, which had started to bleed. “The salve she gave us should help.”

Junhui nodded, hissing a little at the pain, but let the rain wash the gashes away for a minute anyway. “Why did it do that?” he asked as if Wonwoo would have the answer.

Wonwoo shook his head. “Maybe that was Krius’ security system. Or maybe it felt that we were threatening its nest nearby.”

“If it’s a security system, then it’s a pretty lousy one,” Junhui remarked.

“Your arm would argue otherwise,” he noted as he looked through their bags for the salve. “I’m gonna put some on now to prevent any infection, but when we return to the house, we’ll have to care for it more thoroughly.”

“Yeah, okay. Ow!’ Junhui flinched reflexively as Wonwoo applied the ointment, then pouted.

“Sorry,” Wonwoo chuckled, but stopped for a second to glance at him. He resumed the application with more gentleness, peeking at the boy every few seconds. “Better?”

Junhui never would admit it out loud, but at that moment, he was actually glad that he got hurt. A little. If only to have Wonwoo take care of the injuries with such gentleness and... affection?

Afterward, they collected some dirt and headed North, back to the little house. As the rain started up harder, Wonwoo pulled out the tarp from his bag, and Junhui used his magic to levitate it over their heads. They huddled under it as before and walked side by side for the rest of the way through the woods.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Congrats to all those who guessed correctly! haha.
> 
> *Hao's voice* ♫♪ I'm like a bird! ♫♪ hahahahaha. I'm sorry, I should not be laughing... Anyway, no worries! Hao shall return to normal soon enough XD
> 
> Mingyu Mingyu Mingyu... You silly puppy. 
> 
> I should probably clarify Krius' thinking: He sent Chan to spy on MG to find out where Jun is, and at the same time, figure out if Wonu really left the island. Since MG refused to say anything, they took Hao as hostage, believing that MG knows enough to find Jun for them, and bring Jun to the castle. WonHui kinda of played into Krius' trap when Wonu showed up too. Now Krius knows for sure. Why the games instead of just catching them? He thinks it's fun and likes to toy with his prey before killing it (stupidly overconfident as it were).
> 
> I hope the action kept you entertained! As always, thank you for reading and see you next week! ^_^  
> xoxoxo


	22. Brewing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Krius summons Channie to his castle, where trouble is brewing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This takes place a few hours after WonHui escaped Krius' castle and got attacked by the hawk at the Pillar.
> 
> -

Knowing that it was bound to happen sooner or later did very little to help Chan accept it. His hands trembled as he struggled to grab onto the banister, ascending the grand staircase of Krius’ castle, for what must be the final time. He had failed: Junhui had escaped; interrogating Mingyu had yielded no results. Every day, Junhui’s powers grew more powerful, while Chan’s self-possession diminished at an incredible rate.

Krius had summoned him this evening. No doubt, he had had enough of the boy’s incompetence, and Chan would pay the price today. His hands shook with every step he took.

Maids and stewards buzzed around the castle, attempting to clean up the damages caused by this afternoon’s battles. By the crumbling walls and shattered chandeliers, he would infer that both sides fought fiercely. Krius had to be livid at this point.

Shuddering at the mere thought of what he might do to him to relieve his anger, Chan paused briefly in front of the doors leading to his laboratories. Before his breath had the chance to even out, the doors slammed open.

Swallowing, Chan stepped inside the spacious room, lit by candles and oil lamps.

Like all the rooms in the castle, the curtains were drawn, making it very difficult to locate Krius among the shelves of ingredients and books. At last, after advancing carefully through the maze, Chan found him at the very back of the room, facing his work bench in front of a row of windows. Several flasks and beakers containing different colored concoctions sat on the surface and clamped to stands.

Ever since Chan had started to work for him, this was the first time he had seen Krius out of his chair. His height exceeded the boy’s expectations, and his weight suggested skin on bones with very little muscle mass. His wispy, gray hair fluttered in the chilly breeze as he flicked the window open. He wore an expensive-looking black suit, and a cane rested on the side of the bench. Still, his face was shrouded in shadows as he kept working with his back to the boy.

After ten minutes of not acknowledging him, Chan wondered if Krius wanted to let the fright and anxiety consume him to death.

“Thank you for not barging in here and make a commotion!” he exclaimed, making the praise sound almost sincere. “This is rather delicate and sensitive work.”

Chan nodded despite the fact that the older couldn’t see him.

“Breathe, dear child!” he laughed, mixing some blue liquid. “You’re no good to me dead.”

The statement, meant to relieve him, knocked the wind out of him. What did Krius want with him, then? He couldn’t possibly overlook so many of the boy’s failures.

Reading the latter’s thoughts, Krius chuckled. “I summoned you because I wanted to tell you that Jeon Wonwoo not only returned to Amarut Island, he is once more trying to overthrow me.” He feigned disbelief, adding absently, “I have to admit, he is a persistent fellow, which just makes all of this so much more enjoyable!”

Chan’s mind turned onto itself at this point, not hearing the comments that followed.

 _Goddamn you, Jeon Wonwoo!_ He thought he’d gotten rid of him for good! Why was Wonwoo meddling again, when he had gotten what he wanted?

Chan knew for certain that the older had taken the provided boat ride to the mainland, and he stayed there overnight, since Junhui outran the guards on his own. Wonwoo shouldn’t have returned. Leaving the island had been his purpose in life for as long as Chan had known him. Not even Soonyoung could have persuaded him to let go of his obsession. Yet when the opportunity presented itself, Wonwoo took it, then rejected it. Why?

The significance of what he did, and the reason he came back finally hit Chan. Wonwoo fell in love with Junhui. And to change his mind, he had to love him more than he ever cared for Soonyoung’s wellbeing, if he did at all.

The unexpected anger made his blood boil.

Wonwoo had been all too quick to agree to let Soonyoung risk his life for that pipe dream. A pipe dream that Wonwoo had finally grasped, only to throw it away for Junhui’s sake. Soonyoung’s sacrifice meant nothing to him, then. Soonyoung died for him to live and pursue happiness and freedom, and now he was tramping all over that noble and honorable intention.

What a fool Chan had been, he thought bitterly. Assuring Wonwoo’s safety for his brother’s sake, when Wonwoo couldn’t give a damn about him anymore. 

 _Wen Junhui is to blame. Wen Junhui is the true enemy. Getting rid of him is the only solution_.

Yes, Chan agreed, mind suddenly clear. None of this would have happened if Wen Junhui hadn’t come to Amarut Island. Chan gritted his teeth and fisted his hands.

There would be no more lenience the next time they met. Junhui and Wonwoo would pay.

So consumed by his own wrath, Chan failed to notice the small, sinister grin curling the edges of Krius’ lips. Neither did he see how one of the bottles on the work bench gradually changed color the more worked up Chan got.

“I’m glad to see you’ve changed your mind about them,” Krius commented, interrupting the boy’s enraged inner monologue. “Not only is Wonwoo here to sabotage me, now he can do so without the Pact affecting him. A very smart decision on his part. Of course,” he considered it for a moment, picking up another flask, “it complicates matters for us slightly, but it evens out the game. I can’t attack a novice like Junhui on his own.”

Correcting him was something Chan never anticipated doing, but in sight of recent events, he felt the need to. “I don’t mean to be disrespectful, but aren’t you underestimating them?”

“Am I?”

“Well, I... They escaped your men so many times—”

“Ah!” he laughed. “There lies the difference, my dear boy. They escaped _my men_. As they should! If they can’t even do that, they wouldn’t be worthy of my time.”

“Then what are you...” The more Krius talked with him, the less sense he made. He seemed to be speaking in circles, and Chan found it difficult to keep up with what he truly wanted.

“Since your pursuit of Junhui had been fruitless,” he mocked, “I have another mission for you. You will go to the small village of Norbay and tell them to expect two rebels. They are to catch them by my orders. If they succeed, they will be rewarded. Once our friends are caught, you have to make sure Junhui drinks the potion.”

“Potion?” Chan echoed unsurely.

“Indeed. As we speak, I am waiting for the final ingredient. The potion will allow me to collect his magical signature, thus his strengths and weaknesses. Once I do, he will no longer be immune to my powers.”

At that moment, a hawk screeched. Chan spun toward the window to see it fly in. Krius put out his arm for the bird to land on. With unexpected care, he petted the animal, then examined its claw. He picked up the beaker he had been mixing and used his magic to extract whatever the bird had brought back.

As he swirled the liquid, Chan noticed traces of red. Could that be Junhui’s blood? Krius must have sent his hawk out to attack the witchling in order to get it. But why did he go through all that trouble, when he easily could have gotten it when Junhui was here? At that point, Krius could have simply capture him and steal his powers.

“Because,” Krius answered with a sigh, “A witch is at their most vulnerable when they use their powers on a grand scale. Their attention is divided, their defenses are low, and their reaction is slowed. Especially for a young one like Junhui, when so much depends on his spells.” His back bowed as Krius bent over his concoction, humming.

“Then you know what they’re planning.”

“Of course, I do!” he sounded vexed at the assumption that he was unaware of their mission. “I put an end to Hayun’s attempt to deprive me of my powers, but it seemed that somehow, her son found a way to continue her work. Killing Hayun was simple, but Junhui, as the current last descendant of the Myeong bloodline, is more resilient to dark magic.”

“So you’ll let him start the ritual,” Chan gathered, trying to keep up with him. “To distract him, then you’ll use his weaknesses against him to take his powers.”

“Precisely.”

His explanation made sense except for one detail. “In that case, why did you ask me to bring him in before if your power couldn’t affect him then?”

“I wanted to meet little Junhui! To know the depth of his powers.” He gave it some thought. “If you _had_ caught him, I would have most likely challenger him to a duel. Something fun and exciting!” he chuckled and began to hum again as he worked.

When the humming stopped, Krius remarked, “While matters didn’t initially go according to plan, everything and everyone are where they should be. Including you!”

Chan gulped.

“Would you look at this!” Krius exclaimed suddenly, his voice shriller than usual. He was studying the concoction he'd been brewing all this while. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a fledging with red powers before. How interesting! It’s then really no wonder why Junhui invests so much of himself in that fellow.” He looked upward, questioning the ceiling. “Should I really exploit his weakness? Hmm... He has such a tender heart.”

Red. Him. Weakness. Heart. Well, Chan will be damned.

His poor brother. If only Chan could have stopped him from contacting Hayun. Soonyoung would have lived, and his best friend wouldn’t have been seduced away by her son.

“When do I leave?” Chan wanted to know impatiently.

The corner of his mouth hitched up. “Whenever you feel ready.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Channie... （◞‸◟）my poor misguided child. You are so susceptible to Krius' lies... *deep sigh*
> 
> Just to make it clear, Krius basically took advantage of Chan's anger and kind of warped his thought process. And just a tiny hint: pay attention to what Krius says about Jun's powers. It'll become important next chapter.
> 
> Kudos to the readers who guessed that the hawk was important! 0.0
> 
> Everyone knowing WonHui are in love with each other (except for themselves) lololol.
> 
> As with shorter chapters, I'll be double posting this week, maybe around Thur/Fri.
> 
> Have a fun and safe Halloween, guys! Thank you for reading! ^_^  
> xoxoxo


	23. Choose Your Poison

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WonHui take care of GyuHao, before moving on their journey, where Junhui is forced to make a life-changing decision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for mild violence and blood. 
> 
> -

 

 

Wonwoo threw the door to his childhood house open. Mingyu, in the middle of pacing the floor, jumped upon seeing the pair coming in from the storm. Several emotions crossed his face: relief, nervousness, dread, shame. He looked like a kicked puppy. Wonwoo glared at him, not saying a word. His thoughtless friend fidgeted, rubbing the back of his neck, in the hope of finding the right words to say.

Quietly, Junhui moved past him toward the fireplace. He had no idea how Mingyu could’ve stayed in this house for so many hours without freezing to death. The whole place was frigid, the drafts swirling around making him shiver. The damp clothes didn’t help, either. With a flick of the wrist, the witchling lit the fire, orange flames flaring up to chase away the shadows. He warmed his hands for a few seconds before shrugging off his jacket and hanging it on the back of the chair to dry.

“I, uh, I don’t know what to say, Wonwoo,” he overheard Mingyu’s timid admission. “You have to know how sorry I am.”

“About what?” Wonwoo retorted, unflinching. “About abandoning us to die or about leaving behind the only chance at changing Minghao back?”

“Ohhh...” Mingyu groaned, scratching at his scalp furiously. “I didn’t mean to! I was just... I wasn’t thinking clearly! Grah!”

“I’m not the one you should be apologizing to,” Wonwoo said, walking away.

Mingyu followed him with small, hesitant steps, and stood next to Junhui, head bowed. The anger had long ago cooled, but Junhui was still irked.

“Junhui, please don’t make Minghao pay for my mistake,” he implored.

The older sighed, picking at the scabs on his arm and wrist. He wasn’t good with this kind of situation. Especially when he was usually the one at the receiving end of lectures. He chewed on his lip, mulling over what he should say.

“I made you a promise,” Junhui started out. “And I’m going to keep it. You don’t have to worry. It’s just…” Running the tip of his sneaker along the cracks in the floor, he asked aloud, “If I had fallen into that hole, who would you apologize to now? I’m not angry with you for not helping me. But I’m baffled that you would leave your friend—the person you came to for help—die. This island and Krius didn’t just take away your freedom, they’ve made you all into self-serving people who have forgotten what it means to be human beings.” Junhui turned away from the fire to look at him properly. “And that is just sad.”

Mingyu lowered his eyes, then glanced up briefly at Wonwoo. The latter didn’t respond; he was preoccupied with bandaging his cuts one-handedly. Junhui observed him over his shoulder for a second, and when it was clear that he wouldn’t be able to manage on his own, Junhui wordlessly stepped up and took the roll of gauze to help him.

“I hope you didn’t forget to disinfect the wounds,” Junhui muttered, wrapping the roll around his shoulder.

Wonwoo snorted. “And risk my arm falling off?”

They shared a small smile as Junhui finished up.

Afterward, while Wonwoo changed into a dry shirt and put his damp jacket by the fire, Junhui approached the table on which Mingyu had set the pen. Behind him, Junhui heard the younger’s sheepish footsteps follow him. Mingyu put down the engagement ring silently and waited.

To steady his mental state, Junhui took in a deep breath and fished for the pouch with the transfiguration powder. He’d come up with the spell earlier today, but the short notice on top of the lack of experience concerning transfiguration, didn’t exactly give him confidence it’ll go well. Now after that lecture, it’ll be a real slap to the face if he couldn’t do it. Or worse, do it badly. (He didn’t think Mingyu would take it well if he had to be engaged to a pen-boy hybrid.)

Picking up the pen, Junhui placed it on the floor along with the ring. His stomach in knots and his hands shaking, he sprinkled the orange powder over the objects and recited the incantation under his breath.

“Help the innocent one so unfairly punished. Undo the curse that gave him flight, take away the quill, so light. Return to his body and soul, so he may reunite with his lover as a whole.”

The pen began to vibrate, and soon, it bounced up and down on the floor like a freshly caught fish. Junhui backed away cautiously, terrified that he did something wrong. The pen cracked open, and a cloud of red smoke poured out, swirling around its source, and swallowed up the ring. The cloud grew, gaining height and width. He and Mingyu jumped back, startled by its growth. The witchling’s worried eyes darted to Wonwoo; the latter was already halfway to him. Wonwoo put a steady hand on his forearm and applied just enough pressure to be reassuring.

Then suddenly, as if someone had opened the window, the red smoke flew away and vanished into thin air. Junhui’s mouth hung open as he stared at what it left in its wake.

A young man with shiny blond hair stumbled to find his balance. He adapted a defensive stance as his eyes flickered all around in a searching manner. The boy looked exactly like he did in that picture frame on Mingyu’s desk. The frog-patterned pajamas and bare feet suggested he was kidnapped right out of his bed. Junhui couldn’t even begin to imagine how terrifying and disorienting the whole ordeal must have been. He was all too glad to see that the boy’s limbs were all accounted for, and all very much _human_.

“Minghao!” Mingyu exclaimed, startling the witchling out of his assessment, as he ran toward his fiancé, embracing him tightly. His hand cradled Minghao’s head against his shoulder, and he nuzzled against the blond strands.

Minghao hugged him back, closing his eyes. “Are you okay? What… What happened?” he asked tentatively as the taller let him go to get a proper look at him.

“It doesn’t matter anymore,” Mingyu responded, gently stroking his face with a grin so wide, his canines showed. “You’re okay now.”

Watching their reunion, the tender look shared between them without the need for words to get their feelings across, Junhui could almost forget the hell they all went through. It certainly made this precious moment worthwhile. He felt himself smiling, eyes misty. Who could resist a happy ending?

Wonwoo leaned close to his ear. “This is what makes you stronger than Krius,” he whispered. “You can make people happy. Isn’t it time you give yourself some credit, too?”

Junhui looked over in response, and the other smiled. His eyes fluttered as they locked on Wonwoo's, the sincerity and fondness swirling in the depths of the dark pools. At that moment, Junhui was transported back to that rainy night under the tarp. The mere thought of it sent his heart racing. They stood so closely; the fresh scent of pines and rain wrapped around him, Wonwoo’s warm hand on his waist.

“Where are we?”

Minghao’s question broke the moment, and the pair pulled away, both averting eye contact in hopes that the matching flushed cheeks would disappear.

“Wonwoo?” Minghao furrowed his brows, dividing his attention between the people around him. “What are you doing here? And—” he stared at the other boy. “Who’s this?”

Junhui offered a sheepish smile and wave.

“This is Wen Junhui,” Wonwoo explained. “He’s Hayun’s son.”

Understanding dawned on his expression as Minghao looked at the older boy. “I see. Um, nice to meet you.”

Junhui let out a nervous laugh. “Likewise.”

“He changed you back,” Wonwoo provided.

“Oh!” Eyes wide, he studied Junhui for a second, then asked, “But why?”

A little bewildered, Junhui knitted his brows together. Why what? Why did the younger need to be changed back? Why did Junhui do it? What was his question referring to? Did Minghao not recall being a bird then a pen? Junhui didn’t understand the inquiry, and he turned to Wonwoo, but Minghao elaborated in the same second.

“Why would you help me—us? We don’t know each other. Did Mingyu promise you something in exchange?” He turned to his fiancé. “What did you trade them for my life? Please tell me you didn’t do anything reckless. Nothing’s done for free, especially something this significant, so what was the price?”

_Uh, what?_

Clearly, this island has completely messed these people up if they can’t even understand the concept of doing good deeds without ulterior motives. Now he somehow can see why Mingyu’s first instinct had been to run and save himself. If Junhui and Wonwoo managed to free this island, the inhabitants of Serenity Port were going to have a seriously rude awakening.

“Hao!” Mingyu exclaimed, grabbing his shoulders. “It’s not like that. They’re good people. They didn't ask for anything in return.”

Minghao narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “If you say so.” From the tense posture, it was evident that Minghao was ready to take down anyone who even thought of betraying his trust. _Scary_.

Instinctively, Junhui reached out to grab at Wonwoo’s shirt. A warm hand enveloped his, and he relaxed when he sensed the thumb stroking across his knuckles. Wonwoo’s face was unreadable as he addressed the other couple, though.

“You don’t have to be so skeptical, Hao.” He met Mingyu’s gaze. “The entire ordeal is a long story, so I’ll let Mingyu explain the rest.”

“Right,” Mingyu sighed, rubbing at his neck. “Come here.”

Minghao was led toward the dining table, where he pulled out a chair and sat down next to his fiancé. The other two turned to leave to give them some privacy, but he called after them.

“Junhui? Thank you.”

The witchling nodded with a sincere smile, and Minghao offered one of his own, despite small and still hesitant.

As the two of them talked quietly in the corner, Junhui and Wonwoo sat by the fire to tend to their wounds. Never in his life had Junhui ever gotten so many scabs and scars. But his collection paled in comparison to Wonwoo’s. Even so, he urged the witchling to treat the gash from the hawk first. After Junhui applied some of the healing salve on the back of his hand and wrist, he focused on him.

Junhui had been lucky (so far) to not have been hit or shot at, but Wonwoo wasn’t that fortunate. His pain tolerance must have gotten higher and higher over the years, because his arms were covered in bruises and scars. Junhui could only imagine how battered the rest of his body must be.

“I wonder if Mom found some medicinal herb that could work like acetaminophen,” Junhui remarked, trying to distract him from the pain as Wonwoo fixed himself.

He chuckled through the stinging of the hot water applied to the flesh wounds. “I think there’s a higher chance she wrote about the lighthouse.”

“Right,” Junhui agreed, pulling out her journal. “Do you think she got past the spell?”

“Highly doubtful,” he said. They ran out of gauze, so he started to cut into a towel with his dagger.

Holding the ends, he tore through it to make two strips of bandages. One particular wound hadn’t clotted completely due to its severity. He had cleaned it up and put on it some of the ointment, but Junhui understood why he wanted to bandage and keep it covered. It was located on his right forearm, though, just above the elbow, so wrapping it one-handedly proved rather difficult.

“Let me do that,” Junhui volunteered, handing him the journal. “You can flip through this and see.”

He relented with a sigh, and Junhui scooted closer to do the job. “To warrant that sort of security,” Wonwoo commented as he turned and scanned the pages, “Something very significant has to be hidden there.”

“You want to go there next?” Junhui pressed down on his bicep, which got a hiss out of him. “Sorry!”

“I'm all right,” he winced, continuing, “I’d like to know what’s in there before it’s too late.”

“Too late?”

“It might be something that can act as his fail-safe mechanism, or it’s a weakness he needs to hide and protect. Either way, it’d be to our advantage to know what it is.”

Junhui suppressed the shiver that crept up his spine despite the warm fire. “But Freya Blodwen didn’t mention anything like that,” he reminded him, tying off the end of the cloth strips carefully to avoid hurting him. “She just told us to deactivate the Pillars, and she’ll take care of the rest. It stands to reason that she has the means to stop him once he is powerless.”

“True, but I’d rather not depend on people who tend to disappear at will. Besides, unless you haven’t noticed, she has the habit of withholding information.” He stilled the witchling’s hand so he’d have to look at him. “We have to be ready for the worst case scenarios. What if she can't make it there on time? The more we know about him and his shortcomings, the better off we’ll be.”

“So what do you want us to do?”

“Well, everything is moot unless Hayun found some loophole that could bypass the Adamentum spell.”

Wonwoo skimmed the notes, eventually stopping a few pages after the entry about the blue lullabies. Like most of her writing, this one included a small sketch of the lighthouse.

From what Junhui understood, the spell acted like an electric fence to stop whoever got within three feet of the walls, all except for the caster. Hayun theorized that if one was able to locate the anchor points and displace them far enough to the sides, one would be able to sneak in through the opening without actually having to disrupt the electrical field.

It sounded good on paper, but he wondered why Hayun didn’t try it out. They all knew about her knack for putting hypotheses and theories through various tests.

“She might not have had the opportunity to put her plan into effects,” Wonwoo inferred. “Whatever the reason, we’ll have to go without knowing it.” He stretched his arm a few times, tucking the loose bandages ends under the wrap. “Thanks.”

“No problem.”

Then Junhui watched him take out the map like he had done so many times before, spreading it out on the floorboards, smoothing out the creases and wrinkles. It was a miracle it still held together, at this point. He studied it for a moment, flipping through Hayun’s journal to find the coordinates, Junhui assumed. Next, he plotted the last Pillar on the map, labeling it F.

Tapping it with his pen, Wonwoo said, “The last Pillar is on the way to the lighthouse. To save us some time, we’ll stop there first.” Junhui must have looked concerned, because he added, “Don’t worry, the route shouldn’t be as precarious as the one we took to get here. Just long stretches of dirt roads cutting through empty fields.”

Nodding, Junhui commented, “But it’ll take forever, won’t it?”

He chuckled, folding up the map. “‘Forever’ might be exaggerating a little. If we don’t stop for souvenirs or sightseeing, it’ll take half a day to the last Pillar, and from there, maybe a day to the lighthouse.”

“Are we going to cross town?”

“No,” he shook his head. “We’ll keep to the hills.”

Sounded like a good plan, but Junhui was still worried. There wasn't much he could do, though, so he tried to push the stress out of his mind and just rely on Wonwoo.

Movements across the room drew his attention. Minghao, cold, hugged his arms. Mingyu shrugged off his coat and put it over the younger’s shoulders. Poor kid. Junhui couldn’t even begin to imagine how lost and confused he must be about all of this. Especially after having been transformed into a bird then a pen.

“What are we going to do about them?” Junhui asked quietly, turning his attention to Wonwoo again. “They can’t really come with us.”

He thought for a second, agreeing with a nod. “They have the option of staying here until things calm down. Everything is still functional. There’ll be some inconveniences, but it beats the alternative.”

Remembering Hayun’s necklace, Junhui unclasped it from his wrist. “We can let them borrow these,” he suggested, purposely blocking out the mental images of having to pry it out of their attacker’s grasp from that time. “I mean, we have the coins—they could use some magical protection.”

“They’ll have to make do with yours,” Wonwoo responded, his tone clipped and face somber.

Junhui wanted to kick himself for speaking so insensitively. Wonwoo’s charm meant to him a lot more than a mere shield. It was a memory, a memento of a friend he had truly loved and missed. Of course he wouldn’t want to part from it, albeit momentarily.

“I’m sorry,” Junhui said, lowering the pendant down.

After a second, Wonwoo clarified, “If I still had it, I might’ve loaned it to them.”

The witchling snapped his eyes upward. “What do you mean? You lost it?”

He sighed, greatly pained. “Yes and no. I no longer have it in my possession, but I do know where it is.”

“Where?”

Refusing to answer the question further, he cracked his knuckles and got to his feet. He fled the conversation by grabbing a few protein bars and jerky from their provisions. With them in hand, he walked to their companions.

Junhui sat in place, wondering what happened to Soonyoung’s necklace. Obviously, it wasn’t something he would leave laying around. Could he have hidden it somewhere? That wouldn’t really explain why he was giving Junhui the cold shoulder. He only did that when the boy got too close to figuring out his secrets.

It had taken Wonwoo a long time to open up to him, but eventually, when he’d felt ready, he had divulged those secrets. So it stood to reason that Wonwoo would tell him about this one day, as well. Junhui just didn’t like seeing him so closed off.

 

When the morning came, Wonwoo returned to his usual mood. He instructed Mingyu and Minghao on the use of the old stove and water pump, gave them advice on which route to take to get to the village for food, but added that they should limit their trips to a minimum so as to not attract the attention of thieves and robbers. Junhui handed them Hayun’s necklace, and then he and Wonwoo got going.

As promised, the roads were mostly flat and people-free. The fog rolling in made Junhui nervous, though. Forget the creepy feeling prickling the back of his neck; this was more along the lines of being watched as the pair trudged through the muddy road. His eyes didn’t stop darting side to side, expecting to see someone hiding in the trees or inside the abandoned houses they passed by. The anxiety decreased slightly when the sun rose higher behind the clouds. It was nowhere near enough to disperse the fog, but at least the sky brightened a shade.

They didn’t run into anyone for the rest of the trip toward the coast. After some short breaks, they eventually headed toward a gated park of some sort. Tall, black trees grew in numbers on the piece of land. Their long branches twisted and entangled themselves, forming giant webs over their heads. The scene was eerily silent until a crow landed on a branch and cawed three times. Junhui couldn’t suppress the shudder that wracked through his body.

Undeterred by the foreboding omen, Wonwoo marched forward. The iron gates creaked loudly as he pushed them aside. Sheepishly, Junhui trailed after him, hand clutching the red hoodie, wide eyes casting glances at the crumbling, gray walls marking the entrance to the park. They stopped a few feet inside, and Junhui realized with a jolt of dread that this wasn’t a park at all.

Gray and white tombstones of all sizes silently stared at them through wild grass and weeds.

Crooked. Upturned. Forgotten.

The sight initially terrified him, but then a sense of sadness weighed down his chest.

“Is the Pillar among them,” he asked quietly, “Or are we just passing through?”

“Hayun mentioned mountains,” Wonwoo replied with the same respectful whisper, “So I’m assuming it’s somewhere behind the church.” As he spoke, he pointed toward the left, where the other could glimpse very faintly a building. “Beyond it is the ocean.”

Quietly, the pair treaded on the uneven cobblestone road that led through the graveyard. The building came into focus, and Junhui stared up at the dilapidated church. A fallen tree had taken down one side of the roof, the windows were either broken or covered in grime, and the front door was missing a set of hinges. How long had it been since anyone frequented this place?

The boys rounded to the back, where they came within meters of the coastal cliffs. Unlike the ones by Krius’ castle, the water below was calm, as if it felt too saddened to create waves and disturb the resting souls. Junhui wrapped his arms around himself and inhaled deeply the briny air. Then he turned back around and searched for the Pillar, which wasn’t too difficult.

As the only column in the midst of round rocks, it stood out like a sore thumb. Junhui hitched his backpack higher and proceeded to slide down the small slope to the lower level. He heard a zipper opening and paper rustling as he started to lower the shield. From the corner of his eye, he noted Wonwoo getting to work on the diagrams. Junhui dug in his bag for the piece of chalk and walked up the stone to read the inscription.

_Let my reign dominate the land as do the highest mountains._

Bouncing the words in his head for a minute, he thought about the monster’s castle built on the cliffside. The previous Pillars’ inscription were similes and metaphors, but this might be closer to a literal sense. Consequently, if Junhui were to write: _May the mountains supporting this reign of terror crumble under the weight of my sins_ , his castle (and with any luck, Krius with it) might come crashing into the ocean. The Pillar agreed with the witchling, burning the words a bright purple.

“Okay,” he dusted his hands. “All done.”

The duo retraced their steps around the church, but when they reached its side, a shadow darted across the window, startling Junhui. At the same moment, several twigs snapped, and men poured out from behind trees and gravestones, pointing guns at them.

Wonwoo tugged the witchling behind him. Within the same second, he pulled his pistol at the leader of the group.

“Don’t be foolish, boy,” the man sneered. “Lower your weapon.”

“You first,” Wonwoo retorted, unflinching.

Junhui still gripped the red hoodie as he looked around them. There were enough rocks and trees within reach to provide him with ammunition to get rid of the threat, but these people weren’t mindless guards, and he hesitated.

He and Wonwoo were supposed to protect and save civilians, not give them concussions. This could very well be a misunderstanding: them protecting their lands against outsiders. The boys had just come from Krius’ Pillar; these people could be mistaking them for his henchmen.

The circle of armed men approached warily, surrounding the pair. The clicks of the bullets being loaded into barrels was deafening.

Okay, this was getting out of hand. He and Wonwoo wouldn’t be able to escape unscathed if they opened fire. Mistaken identity or not, Junhui had to find a way to disable those guns and get the two of them out of here.

His eyes darted to the side, searching for a rock hefty enough to knock them out without causing permanent damage.

“Don’t even think about it, honey.” Cold metal dug into his nape, and Junhui froze. One of the villagers had gotten close enough and managed to level his gun to the back of his head. The man cocked it. “I doubt your powers are faster than my bullet.”

His breath caught in his throat, and Junhui closed his eyes to try to calm down enough to breathe before he passed out. He managed to seize shallow gulps of air.

The leader, a blond man in his sixties, grinned mockingly. “It’s time for you to stand down. You’re outnumbered.”

Still aiming at him, Wonwoo asked evenly, “What do you want?”

The man replied, “We’ve received orders to apprehend the two rebels who would be passing through here.”

As if on cue, someone yanked Junhui aside, causing him to lose his balance. He hit the ground on his back.

“Junhui!”

Wonwoo’s shout was followed by brutal punches and hits. They all jumped in to subdue him. Someone opened fire.

Junhui screamed, leaping to his feet and attacked indiscriminately. His fists burned from the impact, but he drew satisfaction from the pained grunts and groans from his assailants, especially when his heel caught an angry face. The lucky streak didn’t last for long, though.

The man who had dragged him away earlier grabbed him now, easily ripping his bag off and trapping the boy’s flailing arms behind his back. He shoved Junhui to his knees, looping several times a coarse rope around his wrists. Junhui cried out, twisting away to fight him. He landed a kick against the man’s shin.

“Argh!”

Before Junhui could get to his feet and make a run for it, the man yanked him back by the jacket and delivered a slap across his face. Junhui saw white, his entire cheek burning. Roughly, the man pulled him up by the forearm to a standing position. It took Junhui several seconds to get his bearings. But when he did, he gasped and struggled even more upon seeing Wonwoo.

“Let him go!”

Not only had Wonwoo been disarmed of his gun and dagger, they'd cuffed him in chains. His lip was split, his right brow bled, and bruises were already forming. On his knees, he glared defiantly at the lot of them.

“Even if Krius hadn’t given out orders,” the leader growled, “We would’ve gladly given you what you deserve for luring our children away.”

His brain didn’t have time to process the meaning of his words. In the next second, the cruel man used the butt of his gun and smashed it across Wonwoo’s face.

Junhui shrieked, fighting against his restraint hysterically. “Stop it! Just stop it!”

“Shut up!” The bastard holding him yanked harder on his arm, but Junhui didn’t care if he dislocated his own shoulder. He had to get away. He had to save Wonwoo. “Stop struggling!”

The group turned to the boy at that comment, not that Junhui paid any mind, intent entirely on his partner. Wonwoo spit out a mouthful of blood as he attempted to sit up with his hands and feet tied. He turned to Junhui and shook his head, shooting him a warning look: _Don’t do it,_ it said.

But it was too late. Junhui couldn’t control it.

Tears blurred his vision, and he felt the heat radiating out his body.

Junhui saw red.

His chest heaved, his breaths shallow. The pebbles by his feet started to rattle; the wind picked up; the crows took flight. Behind the group, the church door slammed against the rotting wall, and the windows shattered.

The men flinched and cowered, heads whipping around to see the damages. Various degrees of comments and exclamations erupted out of the group. Their commander’s glare snapped to Junhui.

“The witch child!” the son of a bitch shouted at the guy behind him. “Cover his eyes!”

None of them moved, all staring at him with apprehension, some aiming their guns at him. A quake shook the ground, causing a few of them to pitch over.

“Now!” the leader shouted, grabbing the nearest guy by the back of the neck and shoving him forward.

He stumbled, yanking off his scarf as he did. The rest of them quickly moved into action, holding Junhui in place. He struggled agains their hold, attempting to knock the branches overhead on them, but he couldn’t do it on time. Twisting the fabric, the man covered his eyes and tied it tightly behind his head.

“Weren’t you listening when he told us that the brat needs his eyesight in order to use his powers?” the brute shouted to his underlings. The rest mumbled weak apologies. “We could’ve had a disaster on our hands!” He heaved an exasperated sigh. “Now let’s go! Bring their bags.”

Junhui was dragged away, tumbling over the uneven roots and bricks, but the hands gripping his arms at least didn’t let go. His head was fuzzy, and he felt drained, tripping over his own feet.

He realized they were taken out of the cemetery when the ground changed under his shoes. Probably right out of the gate, he was thrown onto a carriage of some sort. The rough wood seared his skin, and he hissed, cursing the lot of them to Hell. They pushed Wonwoo onto the vehicle, and after all of them climbed aboard, the boys were taken away. Junhui could hear the hoofbeats of horses, which meant wherever they were taking them, it couldn’t be to Krius’ castle. The horses would never be able to bear the rough terrain. It was both a relief and an alarming realization.

A mind-numbing ride later, they unloaded them. Deprived of his sight, Junhui could only rely on his other senses. The weather had cooled down significantly, which suggested night, with a light rain shower. He tapped his foot, feeling mud and dirt rather than concrete.

“Has the barn been cleaned out?” the leader asked someone. They answered in the affirmative, which prompted his orders to take the boys in there. From the footsteps, only a few came along. “Does he know we’re back?”

“Yes, sir. He gave me this. He’ll come by in half an hour or so.”

“Excellent,” the bastard replied with vile enjoyment. “It gives us a few minutes to chat.”

Goosebumps rose on his arms. Junhui heard the doors closing, then a few pairs of footsteps approached. One of them must have been carrying a torch or something, because he could feel some heat radiating out from the person’s direction.

Someone cleared his throat. “Wonwoo, yes?” the headman asked, although his tone implied he already knew him. This had to be connected to his comment in the graveyard. “Still playing the same cards, I see. Only this time, you’ve brought along a new face.” Junhui cringed, instinctively pulling away from his voice. “What happened to the other two?”

Without needing to see him, Junhui knew the light left Wonwoo’s eyes. He remained silent against the taunting.

Junhui felt completely ridiculous and helpless standing there with the blindfold. He had to find a way to get it off of him. As they continued to talk, Junhui tried to focus on inching it up. Usually, he needed to be able to see his target or stand in proximity to it with a good mental image in order to exercise his powers. In his current state, he couldn’t disarm or harm their keepers, but he might be able to slide this damn thing off his face. At that point he could incapacitate them.

“Huh,” the insensitive jerk huffed. “I take it they were killed. Like so many of our children—the ones you and your friends convinced to join the cause.”

The rebuff was delivered caustically, but it shed some light on the reason behind the seemingly excessive violence. They held Wonwoo responsible for what happened the night of the raid without considering that he never meant for any of that to happen. He was hurt by the attack, too.

At last, Junhui managed to slip the scarf over his eyes an inch. Wonwoo was held down by two brutes, and their leader stood facing him with a torch and two other men. The guy who was supposed to keep tabs on Junhui had his back turned, focused on the current conversation.

Now that he could see, he moved on. He tried to loosen his ties, keeping as still as possible.

“Turning us in isn’t going to bring them back,” Wonwoo said flatly, his voice devoid of any emotion.

“But it’ll free the ones imprisoned,” the man retorted.

“Your resentment is with me,” Wonwoo ground out, “Junhui’s innocent. Let him go.”

“Ha!” their kidnapper laughed wryly. “Do you take me for a fool?”

Wonwoo had to have a death wish or something, because he smirked back at the man’s rhetorical question. “It wouldn’t be the first time.”

“You little—!” He shoved the torch to one of his followers and grabbed Wonwoo’s collar. His arm pulled backward.

Junhui’s restraint broke free. He tore the scarf off of his face, swinging his arm through the air, and knocking the leader into the wall. Chaos broke out as the men panicked. Groaning and grunting, the leader lifted his head to glare at his men.

“The potion! Use it now!”

Junhui whipped around right before one of them could hold him back. He shot his arm out and sent him flying. The man crashed and rolled some feet away.

“Junhui! Watch out!”

Spinning around, he ducked the attack.

Wonwoo, using his chained hands, clobbered the redhead and struck him in the stomach. He dropped to his knees. Junhui waved his hands, sending the rest in the air. They dropped like flies behind him, but he couldn’t care less. He ran over to Wonwoo, desperately trying to unlock his shackles.

“No!” Wonwoo shouted.

He shoved the boy to the side, elbowing one of the dark haired men.

Junhui crawled to his feet, attempting to focus his vision. Hands shot out and tugged on his legs, dragging him along the floor. Junhui twisted around to see him, then kicked the guy in the face. With a startled cry, he fell back. Another man bounded forward, shooting his arm out to clench around the boy’s throat. He slammed Junhui back against the dirt ground. His head throbbed; his eyesight swam. The hand on his throat tightened, making it harder to catch his breath.

Soon, Junhui was gasping for air, his chest heaving with every gulp he could muster. Taking advantage of the distress, more rushed in to grip his hands to his chest, as others clutched his feet together, stopping the wild kicks.

Over him, someone grabbed a bottle. He uncorked it. Junhui was conscious enough to grit his teeth, shaking his head side to side, fighting them as hard as he could. They pried his mouth open, digging into his cheeks and jaw. Concurrently, the hand over his throat constricted, and the weight on his chest increased. Junhui resisted, biting down harder, feeling the tears escape and roll down his cheeks.

Very soon, though, the need for air won out, and he had to inhale. They used that brief second.

Cold liquid flowed over his lips, and inevitably down his throat. Junhui coughed at the heavy flow, shaking violently at the bitter and burning trail it left all over the inside of his cheeks and tongue. The sensation caused more tears to pool and overflow in streams.

The bottle emptied, they let go of him. As soon as they did, Junhui bolted upright, clutching at his chest. He coughed a few more times, wiping his face with the back of his hand. His throat burned so much, he helplessly grabbed hold of it, looking up at the lot of them with all the hate he could muster.

The fight had left him weak. He could hardly feel his muscles, much less stand up or attempt to attack them.

“What the hell did you do to him?” Wonwoo demanded, jerking his arms away from their grasp, chains clinging together. “What was in the bottle?”

“I don’t know,” the bastard responded, “The orders were to give it to the witch before—”

The doors to the barn slid open, and everyone turned toward them. The group blocked his view of the entrance, so Junhui only heard him speak. His voice was enough, though.

“Where is he?” Chan asked, his tone much sharper than any he had used previously. He almost sounded like a different person.

The men stepped aside, and the younger walked forward, glaring down at Junhui with a satisfactory grin. “Finally, we meet again, Junhui.” He was carrying a hurricane lantern.

When Junhui didn’t respond beyond scowling at him, Chan turned to the left, examining Wonwoo. “I never thought I’d ever see you again.”

“I was hoping for the same thing,” he retorted, wiping his bloody nose.

Chan grinned sarcastically, staring at his shackles. “How charming. You in chains once more. By now it must feel like second nature.”

He glowered at the younger.

With a nod, Chan dismissed the villagers. “That’ll be all, gentlemen. I’ll handle it from here. Thanks for your help.”

While the others filed out, the leader remained. “What about our reward?”

Chan heaved a sigh. “Your children will be returned to you as soon as Krius is done with these two. Rest assured, Krius always keeps his word.”

The man grumbled, but didn’t argue. He left and closed the door behind him.

Now they found themselves in an empty barn with Kwon Lee Chan. When the villagers had mentioned that they cleaned out the barn, they meant it. It was nothing but a big building with four walls and a roof. No item for Junhui to flung at Chan. Junhui could try to throw the boy, but somehow he couldn’t bring himself to hurt him like that. Not unless absolutely necessary (given he could even muster the strength in his current weakened condition).

For the moment, Junhui needed to know what they made him drink. If it was by Krius’ command, then it was nothing good. Better be informed than die in ignorance, though.

“You really think Krius is going to keep his word?” Wonwoo questioned. “He’s not going to bring Soonyoung back—he physically can’t.”

“Shut up!” he shouted shrilly, his eyes bulging. His reaction not only surprised Junhui; Wonwoo stared at him incredulously, too. They'd never seen the boy so tense and belligerent before. “You don’t get to talk about him! Not after...” he trailed off, shooting daggers Junhui’s way as he narrowed his eyes.

Junhui honestly couldn’t understand why the boy harbored so much abhorrence toward him. How could Krius have twisted his mind so thoroughly?

“He’s going to bring Soonie back,” Chan claimed with absolute conviction. “That’s why I didn’t want you to get hurt,” he told him. “Because Soonie wouldn’t want that. That’s why I asked Krius to let you go free.” Then his voice changed. He gritted his teeth, jabbing his finger into the older’s chest. “But you had to go and ruin everything! You had to come back and side with him!” He pointed accusingly at Junhui. “He is the enemy!”

Junhui stared with round eyes. _Krius, you bastard. What have you done to this kid?_

“Soonyoung isn’t coming back,” Wonwoo enunciated, imploring Chan to see reason. “We heard him talk about it with his lackey. He tricked you, just like he tricked everyone on the island.”

“No!” Chan refused to listen, shaking his head. “I saw him. I talked to Soonyoung! And nothing you’ll say will convince me otherwise. You don’t want him to return because it’s your fault that he died, but he’s coming back.” Chan turned to Junhui. “And you...” he snarled. “Why couldn’t you do what you were asked to do? You could have lived, you know? You could have listened to me and stayed out of this mess. Now you’re gonna end up like your dead mother.”

Junhui stared at him with conflicted emotions. He hated what Chan was doing, but at the same time, he felt so much pity for him. The boy wanted his brother back to the point that he was ignoring all rationality and logic. He was on the path to insanity at this rate, and Junhui knew there was no way to reason with him, so he didn’t try.

“What was in the bottle?” Junhui asked instead.

Chan looked him straight in the eyes before pronouncing, “Poison.”

The blood drained from his face, and his stomach dropped.

“What?” Wonwoo shouted, jumping to his feet.

Chan ignored him. “In less than half an hour, it will kill you.”

Shivers broke out over his skin.

“Where’s the antidote?” Wonwoo demanded, stalking toward the younger.

“What makes you think there is one?” he replied innocently.

Narrowing his eyes, Wonwoo made great effort to control his anger. “Krius wants his powers. There’s no point in killing him before he does.”

Laughing, Chan nodded. “Always so smart, Wonwoo.” He glimpsed at him, then at Junhui. “I do happen to have the antidote. There are rules, though.”

Wonwoo and Junhui shared a look, which apparently upset him, because he huffed. “You drink the antidote, you’ll live. However, you will also become vulnerable to dark magic.”

“Why are you telling us?” Junhui asked warily. It seemed like a pretty good piece of information to withhold.

Shrugging, Chan answered flippantly, “Krius believes in playing fair.”

“Forcing poison down someone’s throat isn’t playing fair,” Wonwoo pointed out.

The scowl deepened on the younger’s face. “His game, his rules. Do you really think this is time to argue with me? Your little boyfriend has a little more than twenty minutes to decide on which poison he’d like to kill him.” Backing away with a depraved grin, Chan suggested, “Choose wisely. I’ll come back in fifteen minutes to hear your decision.”

As Chan turned his back on them and walked to the door, Junhui noticed a piece of wood that had broken off from the beam during the fight. He levitated it in the air and flung it at the back of his head.

The hit was too light to cause much damage, but it was enough to make the kid stumble from shock. Fuming, he whipped around, eyes blazing. “You’re going to pay for that,” he promised. “Just wait.”

The door slammed shut behind him, and the locks turned. The pair found themselves alone in the dark. Junhui couldn’t even begin to think about the ultimatum. Instead, he inched toward Wonwoo, and he slumped to his knees so Junhui wouldn’t have to get up.

“We’ll figure something out,” Wonwoo reassured him, trying to comfort him. His chains jingled as he moved.

Junhui nodded, drawing the chained hands into his lap and felt along the metal cuffs. “We need to you get you out of these.”

“Forget about these!” he snapped, pulling his hands away. “Your life is at stake here.”

Letting out a small cry, Junhui pressed his hands over his face. Wonwoo sighed, then his chains clanged together. He scooted closer to him and lifted his arms to encircle the crying boy within his embrace. Junhui rested his head over his chest, hearing his heart thumping erratically from the stress. The gesture felt so natural and comforting that Junhui allowed himself to savor it for a minute, wrapping his own arms around the slim waist and clutch at the hoodie like he’s done in the past.

After enduring so many cold nights and witnessing such atrocities, cuddling in Wonwoo’s warmth made Junhui feel safe, despite the current predicament.

“I don’t want to die,” Junhui whispered after a moment around a sniffle.

“I know,” he said, holding him tighter. “You’re not going to, I promise.”

“But if I drink the antidote, then he’ll be able to steal my powers. There won’t be anyone else to stop him; his powers will increase, and more people are going to suffer. _You_ are going to get hurt even more. I don’t—” A hiccup. “I don’t know… If... If I let this poison kill me, then things can't get any worse, right? You and Mom could still make it home, and Krius can't become stronger and—”

“Hey hey hey,” Wonwoo interrupted, cupping his cheeks to lift his face. “Calm down. Take in a deep breath for me and let it out.” Junhui followed the instructions without question, ignoring the stinging pain it evokes. “Just like that,” Wonwoo approved, nodding along. “Good boy.”

Closing his eyes, Junhui dropped his face against the slope of the other's shoulder. “What do I do, Wonwon?”

Wonwoo stroked his hair, rocking him slightly. He laid his cheek on the crown of Junhui's head. “I can’t tell you what to do this time, kitten.”

“But you’re so good at it,” Junhui half-kid, and they laughed a little, before the joyous sounds bled into the night. Turning so that his back rested against Wonwoo’s chest, Junhui examined the shackles one more time.

By now, their eyes had adjusted to the dark, so it was relatively easier to see. Junhui lifted Wonwoo’s hand, studying the five-inches of chain linking the cuffs together. They were too thick; he wouldn’t be able to produce enough heat to melt them. Even if he did, he’d probably end up burning Wonwoo. He examined the lock next.

“I might be able to steal the key,” he thought out loud.

“Junnie…” Wonwoo started to argue, but the witchling was already concentrating, working to make the key appear like he’d done with the bowl of soup a few days ago.

A light jingle like a piece of metal hitting the ground caused him to snap his eyes open. An old fashioned key laid within reach. Picking it up, Junhui grinned.

He ignored Wonwoo’s protests and comments about how Junhui didn’t have his priorities straightened out. Junhui knew that he should be thinking about the poison slowly killing him, but he also realized that once Krius caught him, Wonwoo would be next on the chopping block. He just couldn’t leave him all chained up. There was no point in both of them getting killed. Even if Junhui couldn't make it, Wonwoo had to.

The shackles opened, and Wonwoo pulled his hands away, rubbing the raw skin.

“Thank you,” he said, although wearing a frown. “Now what about you?”

The barn door opened, and Junhui jumped, whipping around. His heart hammered in his chest, and this time it actually felt like someone had pierced a stake through his chest. He gasped at the suddenness, clutching his body.

“Junnie? What’s wrong?” Wonwoo asked, alarmed, putting a hand on his back. “Moonlight, talk to me.”

Junhui couldn’t speak, but he shook his head to try to tell him he was fine. The person at the doorway briskly walked in, closing the door behind them.

Initially, he thought it was Chan returning, but this kid had lighter hair and seemed taller. The lantern he carried swung side to side as he ran toward them, their backpacks hanging off of his shoulders. Up close, Junhui still didn’t recognize him.

“We have to hurry,” the boy whispered, kneeling down to be at eye level with them. “I managed to distract Chan, but you have to leave now. I’ve readied a horse and carriage out back.”

The pain in his chest turned acute, and he gritted his teeth to keep the whimpers from slipping out. Still, confusion put him off. Who was this kid? Was this another trap?

Seeing their apprehension and puzzlement, the boy explained, “My name’s Hansol. I was there the day you and your friends came to ask for help. I wanted to go, but my older brother volunteered, so I stayed behind to take care of our mother. He was caught that night, along with my Kwannie.” Hansol paused, pensive. “But I know it wasn’t your fault, and I know the only way to put everything right is to stop Krius.”

“Thank you,” Wonwoo said, “But we’ve got a problem—”

“The poison,” he interrupted, digging into his pocket. “I snatched it from Chan’s bag.” The little green antidote vial almost slipped out of his grasp. “Here!”

Junhui held the bottle, staring at their rescuer, then at Wonwoo. Time to make his choice.

It was a gamble, but he had to keep his hope alive. He had to believe that they'd make out, and for that, he had drink it. If Junhui let the poison kill him, there would be zero chance of winning, whereas the antidote would buy them time, however little. If they played their cards right, they could still stop Krius before he got the chance to capture Junhui and take his powers. 

As if to tell him to hurry up, his vision, out of nowhere, got blurry. Bright spots danced and flashed in front of him. Vertigo struck. His head, as if too heavy to uphold itself, dropped. Wonwoo grabbed his shoulders, cushioning the witchling against him. He pushed errant strands of hair out of Junhui’s face as the latter struggled to regain his balance. It felt like his brain sloshed around inside his skull. Cold sweat broke out, turning his skin clammy. 

“Is he...” Hansol asked worriedly.

“Kitten?” Wonwoo stroked his face, the action a little too frantic to be reassuring, but Junhui still leaned into it. The deep and soothing voice wrapped around him like a blanket. He curled further into him. “Stay with me, Junnie. Don't slip into the trance. Tell me what you want to do.”

With great difficulty, Junhui squeezed his eyes shut and struggled to snap out of it. “Open... the...” He pushed himself to a sitting position, holding his head in his hands. “Open… the bottle… for me.”

Immediately, Wonwoo uncorked the lid and handed it to him, holding his hand over Junhui's to make sure it wouldn’t get dropped. Junhui emptied the bitter content, grimacing at the taste.

“How do you feel?” he asked softly, caressing his face, pushing the fringe out of his bloodshot eyes.

“Better, I think?” The vertigo was ebbing away slowly and the burning in his veins less intense. Seem like a good sign.

“Can you walk?”

“I’ll… manage.”

Wonwoo helped him to his feet anyway, leaning him against his side with a steady hand on his waist. Hansol picked up the lantern and ran to the door, where he peeked outside to make sure no one was around. Then he waved them forward.

The pair followed Hansol to the back of the next brick house. He jogged ahead to lead the horse and carriage toward the road. Wonwoo let Junhui stand by a nearby tree as he walked up and said something to Hansol. The kid nodded, and the duo of them began to unfasten the reins, lowering the two-wheeled carriage to the ground.

Junhui took careful steps ahead.

“Let me get you another horse then,” Hansol said, about to run back into the shed.

“No, don’t!” Wonwoo interjected before he could. “One horse is plenty, and it’ll be easier to outrun potential trackers. Besides,” he glanced at his partner. “I don’t think Junhui can ride on his own.”

_Good call._ Junhui can’t ride at all, unless pony rides at the fair counted.

Hansol turned toward him, worried. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” Junhui answered with a smile, reaching forward to squeezes his arm. “Thank you so much for your help, Hansol.”

The younger smiled, wide and lopsided. He was cute, Junhui thought distractingly.

Wonwoo tied their bags to the saddle, then helped Junhui climb on the dark horse. He gripped the saddle to steady himself.

“You better go home now,” Wonwoo told Hansol, “Before anyone suspects you had anything to do with the escaped prisoners.”

Nodding, the boy backed away and saluted them. “Good luck!”

Wonwoo waved him goodbye and climbed up behind Junhui, thanking Hansol once more for his help.

Wrapping his arms around Junhui’s waist, Wonwoo took hold of the reins and clicked the horse forward. The two traveled through the night, putting as much distance between them and their enemies.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp! At least they escaped, right? 
> 
> Hansol Vernon Chwe remains THE BEST BOY™ He is amazing, and i am sad that we don't see much of him in this fic :c 
> 
> And we finally got to talk to Hao as a person! lol. I can't even be mad at MG, bc the GyuHao is just too strong *sniff sniff* (ღ˘⌣˘ღ)
> 
> Our heroes suffered a pretty big setback today (´･ ･｀｡) Hopefully they'll figure something out at their next stop, before Krius strikes. Dun dun dunnnnn
> 
> Thank you for reading, and have a wonderful weekend! ^_^  
> xoxoxo


	24. The Lighthouse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WonHui finally find out what Krius is hiding in the lighthouse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a day early here, but Happy Birthday, Hao! I'm sorry you're not part of this week's chapter. But hey, you get to live in peace with your hubby-to-be right now, so hurray! ✩°｡⋆⸜(ू｡•ω•｡)
> 
> So after the past couple chapters full of action, we slow it down a bit. Um, please don't fall asleep on me? lol
> 
> -

 

 

By daybreak, Junhui and Wonwoo deemed it safe to stop at the side of the road, hidden among the bushes and trees.Their horse had been galloping at full speed throughout the night; the poor animal needed rest, and the distance from the village felt relatively far enough that they wouldn’t be apprehended. Being an inexperienced rider, Junhui was glad for the reprieve; he wasn’t sure for how much longer he could take the jostling. He dismounted, thankfully without falling face first in the dirt. On shaky legs, he lowered himself down on a boulder, pulling the hood of his jacket up, and relaxed his muscles.

Meanwhile, Wonwoo guided the horse toward a patch of grass a few feet away, stroking its neck a few times, then unbuckled his backpack from the saddle. He swung the bag over his shoulder to keep it from getting muddy, digging inside of it.

“How are you feeling?” Wonwoo asked, glancing down at Junhui as he opened the worn-out map.

Junhui shrugged. “Amazing, considering.” He cleared his throat, unwilling to discuss it. “I’m rather concerned about your injuries, on the other hand,” he said, eyeing the bruises on his partner’s face. The blood had clotted over the cuts, but they must sting and ache. Moreover, those were only the ones Junhui could see. There was no telling how many others were hidden under the layers of clothes.

“I’m fine,” Wonwoo brushed it off. “If I can survive a week in Krius’ prison on multiple occasions, I’m pretty sure I can survive anything.”

He meant the comment to alleviate Junhui’s worries, but all it did was bring forth horrible clips of TV shows and documentaries depicting prison violence. Junhui shuddered, shaking the mental images away. He dug in the bag behind him for the magic salve.

“At least put this on,” Junhui pleaded.

Wonwoo rolled his eyes, but pocketed the jar.

The fact that he didn’t take care of himself right away peeved Junhui, but he didn’t want to start fighting, so he reluctantly let it pass. Instead, he focused on their next task. “So, where are we?”

Wonwoo scratched his messy hair, disheveling it even more.

His wool hat had been left behind at the graveyard during the ambush. Junhui had noted before that without it, Wonwoo appeared much less intimidating. In the old pictures at the Kwon’s shop, he wasn’t photographed wearing it, which made Junhui idly wonder if he had other reasons for wearing it besides combating the cold. It was black, after all. Maybe it had been his way of mourning his friends.

Noticing the boy staring at him intently, Wonwoo arched an eyebrow. “What?”

Junhui shook his head. “Nothing. Just wondering if your head was cold without your beanie.”

“Oh.” Wonwoo patted his hair. “Not terribly, at the moment.”

“Okay.” Nodding at the map, Junhui rephrased the question, “How far are we from the lighthouse?”

“Well...” Wonwoo said, then paused, consulting the map again. Junhui had never seen him hesitate when it came to knowing their whereabouts. Now that he did, it was rather worrisome.

“Are we lost?”

“No!” Giving him a look, Wonwoo leaned against the rock, stretching the map out between his hands so Junhui could see. “I know we’ve been traveling East, thanks to the sun. By my best estimate, they were holding us at Norbay, the only village within a twenty-mile radius of Pillar F. With that in mind, taking into account last night’s ride, we should be around here somewhere.” He circled the blank part that showed nothing but farmland and empty fields. No streets, none with names at any rate.

Junhui puffed up his cheeks, and blew out a breath, looking up from the paper to inspect their surrounding. Nothing but empty fields, indeed. And trees. “Huh. Maybe Mom has a spell that mimics Google maps or something,” he muttered.

It was uncertain whether Wonwoo’s silence was due to a lack of hearing, or if he simply had no idea what Junhui was talking about. But in any case, he simply watched on as the witchling fetched the three books they’d been accumulated throughout their expedition.

After a cursory look through Hayun’s notebooks, Junhui couldn’t find anything with potential. He checked the spell book Freya Blodwen had sent them at the warehouse.

“Here’s something,” Junhui stopped at a page with a sketch of a quick map. “This is supposed to make the road glow and take us to our desired destination.”

Wonwoo leaned over to take a look. “Does it say how long it’s gonna glow? I can’t imagine you’d want to add further problems on our plate by leaving a trail for them to follow.”

“Good point,” Junhui agreed, skimming the text. “It says ‘momentarily’, so I’m assuming it’ll stop glowing after a while.”

He pondered it, “A while.” The corners of his mouth sunk, and his brows knitted together. Obviously, he didn’t like it, but they had no other alternatives. “Why do witches use the least precise diction?” he muttered.

Glancing at him, Junhui waited for genuine objection. When Wonwoo gave none, Junhui read the full procedure and gathered up a blank piece of paper and pen. He marked an X on the lower left corner, jotting below it their names, then he drew a line diagonally to the top right, where he wrote _Lighthouse_. On the bottom of the page, Junhui sketched a few houses with the words _Serenity Port_ to indicate that they wanted a road that bypassed the town.

“‘Dokyeom’?” Wonwoo read over his shoulder, amused. “You named the horse?”

Junhui met his gaze with a pout. “I don’t want to leave him here by himself.”

Wonwoo bit his tongue to keep him from laughing and nudged him. “What else do you need for the spell?”

Junhui consulted the book. “Some sand, a flower or something with roots from our immediate location, and a flame. I'll take care of that last one.”

Nodding, Wonwoo stood up to his full height and threw a look toward the wild flowers lining the road. “Any will do?” he checked as he strode over to a patch of dandelions.

“Yeah.”

As he picked up a few, Junhui scooped up some sand and wooden sticks. He broke them up to make a tiny pyre and lit them on fire. Wonwoo dropped the flowers next to the witchling and stood back to watch. According to the procedure, Junhui needed to burn the makeshift map over the fire, along with the flowers. After that, he needed to throw in the sand.

The spell took effect much faster than he expected. Right under his knees on the ground, the sand and gravel began to sparkle. Junhui stood up, extinguishing the fire with a few kicks. It looked like someone had spilled a whole bottle of golden glitter over a stretch of fifteen feet or so.

The pair gathered their gear and got back on the horse. Unsurely, Wonwoo led the horse slowly forward, trotting on the glitter. As they moved, the sparkles matched their pace, disappearing behind them as they went. Just like that, they followed the golden glittered road to see the lighthouse.

When they arrived at the coast, it was mid afternoon. Junhui was glad to note that while the clouds had pulled thickly overhead, they didn’t seem ready to pour buckets on the boys quite yet. The sandy path to the lighthouse required a bit of a climb, so they dismounted a quarter mile from it, leaving DK to munch on some grass. Taking their bags with them, they proceeded to scale the slippery incline. From what Junhui could see, there used to be wooden stairs underneath all this sand, but now all that remained were rackety, misshapen steps and rusty nails. On either side of the path, shrubs grew and competed with each other, resulting in scrawny and weak stems.

Beyond the smooth wood railing, and over the rocky wall, Junhui studied the water crashing onto the beach. The sight was hypnotic, together with the sound of the waves rolling and slapping the wet sand, it captured his attention so fully, Junhui paused mid-step.

Junhui thought about Hayun and her relationship with the ocean. She had never enjoyed their trips to the beach in the summer with his grandparents. She stayed back at their house, or on the rare occasion that they all went out prior to stopping at the beach, she’d stay in the car, watching from afar. At Junhui’s prompting and questioning, she’d answered that she nearly drowned at a young age, thus the phobia developed. He’d taken her word for it until now. Perhaps she both feared and missed Blackrock Beach. Feared the horrible and terrifying rituals that took place there every third Wednesday of the month. Yet missed the beauty of the ocean, her family and friends.

Poor Mom. She had to endure the weight of this huge secret and trauma over her shoulders for all these years. Obviously Dad knew, but it wasn’t like he could do more than sympathize.

If Junhui and Wonwoo succeeded this mission, she would be able to put it all behind her, knowing all the atrocities were over.

“Kitten?”

He turned at Wonwoo’s touch on his shoulder.

“What’s wrong?” he asked gently, searching his face.

“I was just thinking about my mom,” he answered, watching the seagulls picking their meals on the sand. “She never really got closure for what happened to her family. And then she had to hide her powers and past from her own son out of fear of the monster that killed the people she loved. Yet when her friends and hometown needed her help, she didn’t hesitate. She came back alone knowing all the risks involved.”

“Hayun is a very brave woman,” Wonwoo praised. Pulling Junhui’s shoulder into him, he added, “You inherited that from her.”

Junhui smiled faintly, returning the comforting hug. He pressed his face against Wonwoo’s neck. “We’ll see her again, won’t we?”

Wonwoo nodded against his hair. “We will.” He allowed him to stay like that for a few more seconds, stroking his back until Junhui was ready to move on.

They boys ascended the last steps to the plot of land where the lighthouse and its keeper’s hut rested on. Eucalyptus trees and Torrey pines grew tall and strong around the buildings, their branches swaying in the wind. Their crisp and unique aromas stirred in the salty air. A few seagulls patrolled the area, but besides them, there were no signs of Krius’ men.

Studying the state of the buildings, Junhui would estimate that the lighthouse keeper had long ago left the premises. Neither building looked much better than the forsaken church they visited yesterday, except that none of the hinges were missing, which would defeat the purpose of making it a cache. On the windows, as expected, small pieces of paper with a symbol were stuck on the panes.

The boys circled the lighthouse, trying to find the stones that Hayun was talking about, which focused the beams of energy to create the magical mesh that electrocuted snoopers. Just to see how bad it was, and whether it affected nonliving, nonconductive items, Junhui lifted up a pebble and flung it at the door.

A huge, green spark exploded, shooting the rock back at them. Junhui ducked, covering his head.

“Okay,” he breathed out. His skin tingled, and he shook his head and arms to try to stop the sensation. “Excessive much?”

“Are you hurt?” Wonwoo asked.

“No, I’m fine.” he sighed. “Just rattled.”

They resumed their investigation, steering clear of the immediate area around the lighthouse. If a little pebble caused that huge explosion, Junhui didn’t want to think about what it would do to a human body.

When they couldn’t find anything, Wonwoo inferred that maybe the anchor points were buried under all the gravel.

To test out the guess, Junhui swept a hand over the general spot in front of the door, pushing the gravel and dirt away with his magic. A sharp and jade-like rock appeared a few inches below. The boys leaned close to examine it. It appeared so harmless, just sitting there. Junhui knew better than to touch, though.

He moved to the side, sweeping away the gravel and sand, to unearth another similar stone. Next, he went to the other side and repeated it.

“Now we just need to slide those two to the right and the third to the left. It should give us enough room to sneak through,” he contemplated.

Wonwoo agreed with a nod.

Without much forethought, they backed away a few feet. Then Junhui waved his hand, gripping onto the pulsating energy of each rock. Nothing happened. Furrowing his brows, Junhui tried again. Still nothing.

“What the heck?” he muttered, doing it again with more force, thinking that maybe they were too heavy for one single tug.

Nope. Nothing.

Frustrated, Junhui turned around and waved a hand over a fist-sized stone. The rock flew in the air without any trouble. He let go of it and faced the house one more time.

“Well, I guess now we know why Mom couldn’t put her hypothesis to the test. My powers don’t work on them, and were we to move them by hand, the shock would probably kill us instantly.” Sighing, Junhui rubbed his face tiredly. “I knew it was too easy.”

“Hold on a second.” Wonwoo stepped up behind him, his head tilted toward the railing lining the top of the lighthouse, where the huge light bulb was kept. His eyes squinted against the glare of the sun against the gray clouds.

At first, Junhui couldn’t tell what Wonwoo was staring at that would warrant so much attention.

He pointed. “Those are mirrors,” Wonwoo explained glancing over at him. “And the way they’re directed, they’re used to reflect something over here—the beams of the spell, I’d wager.”

Comparing the magic rocks and their powers to security lasers, Junhui supposed it’d make sense for mirrors to be used. After all, how else would Krius direct the beams to surround the lighthouse?

“Can you see if you can move them with your powers?” Wonwoo wondered.

“I’ll try,” Junhui told him with very little confidence.

He raised his hands and flicked his wrist. The closest mirror squeaked as it spun 90°. “My magic works!” he exclaimed. Then the strategy hit him. “You want me to shift the mirrors down to the ground and levitate them over the rocks to block the beams?”

“Yeah, just the two in front of the door should be enough.”

Nodding, Junhui backed away a few steps to have room to work. He lifted both arms up toward the targets, seizing them, and dislodged them from their clamps. Once free, they were at the mercy of his pull. He started slowly, tugging them downward along the rays. They descended easily for the first few inches, but as he continued, the challenge to keep his hold on them increased. Junhui had to fight against the spell, and the closer he got to the source, the harder it got.

His arms shook from the strain, making it nearly impossible to bring the mirrors any closer to the desired location. Gasping for breath, he managed to move them a few more inches, then he hit his limit. It felt like pulling on a rope connected to a wall. No matter how much force he applied, the mirrors resisted.

Just trying to keep them levitated in place proved difficult. Junhui was growing weak, but too afraid to let go, fearing the mirrors will go flying off and break. They had enough bad luck as it was—they didn’t need to add more misfortune.

A cry of pain slipped out of his lips, and he winced, gritting his teeth.

Taking the witchling by surprise, Wonwoo appeared on his left. Before Junhui could tell him to move away in case he lost control, Wonwoo placed his hand over the other boy’s and laced their fingers together.

The mirrors shot to the ground. Junhui gasped and put on the breaks. Another handful of inches, and they’d have crashed into the rocks.

Alarmed, Junhui looked over to him. “What was that?” he nearly shrieked, heart racing. His entire body was tingling from the influx of magic.

Wonwoo gave the sight a nod of approval, then turned to him with a self-satisfied grin. “Don’t you remember what happened in the cave?” he reminded him with a wiggle of their hands.

Doe eyes widened in understanding, and his mouth fell open. “You feed my magic,” he said in awe. “Freya Blodwen really wasn’t kidding when she made that assessment.”

Laughing, Wonwoo gave their entwined hands a squeeze. “Guess we’re stuck together for life, moonlight.”

Junhui’s heart skipped a beat at the implication, and he was all too glad to note that Wonwoo was too busy urging him to keep going with the task, to notice his burning cheeks.

“Come on, we’re almost there.”

“R-right. Let’s finish up.”

At his urging and with his help, Junhui lowered the mirrors to within a foot of the rocks and locked them in place. Afterward, his arms fell to his sides and, Junhui sagged to the ground. Wonwoo caught him halfway, making the landing much softer. He was exhausted, and the sweat he’d worked up caused him to shiver now that the wind was picking up.

Wonwoo crouched beside him, watching him catch his breath. He brushed the brown fringe out of the boy’s eyes. Panting, Junhui tapped his partner’s knee. “Thanks for the help.”

“Any time,” he smiled.

“Krius was right about one thing,” Junhui commented. “We make a great team.”

Chuckling, Wonwoo seemed to agree. Then he helped Junhui get to his feet, and the two approached the entryway cautiously. Wonwoo picked up a pebble and threw it against the door to test it out. When it bounced right off of the wood without causing sparks or anything weird, he deemed it safe. He swung his leg over the rocks and floating mirrors to check the knob. Locked, of course.

After shaking knob, he somehow loosened the screws enough that when he inserted the edge of the pocket knife under the metal plate and lifted it up, it came undone. Either the lock hadn’t been changed out since the lighthouse was erected, or he was a lot stronger than Junhui thought. Following that, picking at the mechanism was child’s play. The creaky, wooden door swung open.

“Is there a lock that you _cannot_ pick?” Junhui wondered in amazement, following after him.

Wonwoo laughed once, but didn’t comment.

The boys found themselves inside the large, circular interior. Faded red unpainted brick walls surrounded them, and (most likely rotten) floorboards stretched out under their feet. In the very center, taking almost the entire room was the spiral staircase leading to the light bulb. They looked solid, at least. Along the walls, through the few gaps of broken bricks, seagulls flew in to reach their nest, which Junhui noticed they built on the wood beams supporting the structure. No wonder feathers floated around with dust motes in here.

As Junhui looked around, he tried to figure out where Krius could be hiding whatever it was that he locked in here. He supposed it would have been too much to ask for a treasure chest out in the open.

He stood in place, not wanting to risk fall through the floor, as he assessed the room. His eyes lingered on the right wall, where a cabinet seemed to be hidden behind some kind of dusty curtain. What was _that_ doing in the place like this?

He tugged on the red hoodie and pointed. Wonwoo looked up from some old barrels left in the corner. “Would that be too obvious of a hiding place?”

Wonwoo considered it. “Considering his ego, I doubt he ever thought anyone would be able to infiltrate his spell.” The boyswalked over to check out the oddity with caution.

Wonwoo pulled the curtain back to reveal a padlocked, double-door cabinet built into the wall. The moment he touched it, they heard something coming from the top of the stairs, like running footsteps. Junhui looked up reflexively.

A shadow darted back over the railing, out of view.

“Did you see— _Ah!_ Move!”

A metal crate tumbled over the rails, aimed straight at them.

Junhui yanked on Wonwoo’s wrist and threw himself to the wall, screwing his eyes shut. The crate crashed mere feet from him, shaking the ground upon its impact. A _woosh_ of wind flew over his head, spraying dust and cobwebs in the air.

By the time Junhui regained sensation in his body, he heard a strong and rapid heartbeat pounding in his ears, along with his own panting breath. Next, he registered a hand cradling his head and another wrapped protectively around his waist. Gingerly, Junhui opened his eyes to see that Wonwoo had pulled him to his chest. The both of them laid curled up against the wall, Wonwoo’s back facing the debris.

They were safe and alive. Junhui tightened his hold against the other boy, relief washing over him.

Still, it made no sense that the crate missed them. Unless Wonwoo wore some kind of trampoline under his hoodie, no way could that giant box land five feet away. It should have crushed them underneath it.

“Are you okay?” Junhui asked him as they pulled away.

Wonwoo nodded, inspecting his limbs. “What about you?”

“I’m okay, just a little dazed. And confused.” He knitted his brows together. “How did we survive?”

They stared upward in the hopes of determining what kind of miracle could have taken place to spare their lives. What they saw instead was a warped view of their surrounding; it was like being inside a gigantic soap bubble. _Of course!_ Junhui thought, remembering his crazy training sessions with Mathias. His shield had appeared right before he was about to be shot full of holes. His shield must have deflected the crate to the side, saving them.

“You’re amazing!” Wonwoo said, full of awe, a hand reaching out to touch the shield.

Junhui tried unsuccessfully not to blush as he got to his feet, fixing his jacket. His attempt turned into a weird nervous chuckle that made him cringe. Distracting himself, he removed the shield. “Um, it was just… a defensive mechanism. Anyway.” Brushing his hair away from his eyes, he stammered, “Um... Before it fell, did you see someone or something up there?”

Wonwoo was already examining the upper floor, his brows creasing in contempt. “Yeah, there has to be. That crate didn’t fling itself over the railing.”

Junhui cast a cursory look at what was left of it, seeing mechanical parts through the holes, probably used to repair the machinery of the lighthouse. No wonder the whole box pulverized the floor. Shrapnel and splinters covered the area. Had it not been for the protective bubble, those things would’ve skewered them.

Cautiously, the boys ascended the steps, gluing their eyes to the top in case another surprise awaited them.

Once on the landing, they were shocked to find no one there. The place lacked proper lighting, but definitely looked lived in: empty food cans, water bottles, a sleeping mat and pillow, haphazardly thrown about clothes...

The hatch door leading to the bulb was still locked from the inside, so whoever tried to kill them couldn’t have escaped through there. And unless he or she knew how to fly, they couldn’t have jumped out the window and walked away, either.

The duo split up, snooping through the cases and crates for any relevant clue. After ten seconds, Junhui made the conclusion that the person living here was a slob. There was trash everywhere among the various boxes and equipment. He pulled away fishing nets and rolls of rope, he looked under the small desk, and even checked outside through the windows to cover his basis. No trace of anyone but themselves.

Turning around, Junhui walked back to Wonwoo. He had crouched down, picking up some fallen documents and reading through them.

“Isn’t it kind of dark to read?” Junhui remarked, fishing around for the flashlight.

He turned the beam toward him. Something shiny glinted in the shadows over his shoulders. The blade of a knife rose and plunged straight for his back.

“Duck!” Junhui shouted.

Wonwoo whipped around, dodging the blow. The killer lunged forward. In the same second, Wonwoo extended his leg, tripping the assailant. The man sunk to the ground, hitting his chest and chin with a _smack!_ The knife fell out of his grip, and Junhui dove for it. Wonwoo held him down by the collar and a knee to his back.

“Argh! Stop! Let go of me!” the culprit yelled, swinging his arms and legs around.

Wonwoo applied more pressure with his knee, which caused the man to howl. As he kept struggling, Wonwoo stripped the man’s jacket off of his shoulders, trapping his hands in the sleeves, and tying off the ends.

“No! Let me go! Untie me!”

With an annoyed huff, Wonwoo stood up and stared at the balding man. He looked to be in his late fifties, with a gray beard and dark eyes. He also had more energy than Junhui thought. Even now, he kept kicking and grunting, doing everything he could to try to escape his confinement.

“Stop struggling,” Junhui said, “You’re just gonna hurt yourself doing that.”

“I’m going to be a lot more than ‘hurt’ when Krius finds out I failed and let outsiders come inside!” he shouted. “Please, if you won’t free me, kill me before he does!”

“No!” Junhui protested right away. “Just...” Giving Wonwoo a pleading look, he sighed.

Wonwoo rolled his eyes, but stepped up to flip the man over, pulling him up into a sitting position. “Now start talking,” he ordered. “Who are you?”

The man looked from one boy to the next, debating. Seeing Wonwoo’s steely expression, he gulped. “Chuck.”

“You’re working for Krius,” Junhui stated. “And you live here?”

His chin hit his chest. “Yes, but not out of loyalty or anything. I’m the lighthouse keeper. I’ve been taking care of the lighthouse for centuries, but after the storm that destroyed his castle passed, he came and forced me to guard this place indefinitely. Every week, he sends food and water, along with anything else I need to live.”

“For five years you’ve never left?” Junhui asked incredulously.

Chuck nodded. “He made me a prisoner in my own home. He threatened to kill me if I didn’t do what he wanted.”

“And that would include killing anyone who steps inside,” Wonwoo interjected bitterly, crossing his arms.

“I truly apologize,” the lighthouse keeper said, imploring the younger men to believe him. “I’d never had to before because of his spell, but today...”

Wonwoo heaved a sigh, unable to censure the poor man further knowing that he was also a victim of Krius’ reign of terror. Tiredly, he rubbed at his forehead.

“May I inquire,” Chuck asked sheepishly, “ _How_ you managed to break through the spell?”

The boys shared a look, considering the consequences of telling him the truth. He might be a victim in all of this, but that didn’t mean that he won’t obey Krius just to stay alive.

“We found a way,” Wonwoo eventually told him.

“From what I’ve seen,” the lighthouse keeper began, “It is not a simple feat. You must have a very specific reason to come here.”

“We do,” Wonwoo agreed. “What is Krius hiding in here?”

“I don’t know,” he shook his head. “I’ve tried to look, but never succeeded.”

“You want us to believe that you spent five years locked in here, and yet you’ve never even stumbled upon his cache?”

“Yes, I swear!” the older man insisted. “I once thought that if I could get my hands on it, I could’ve used it to bargain with him. For that foolish thought, he punished me by depriving me of food for two weeks!”

Junhui winced, his sympathy for him increasing by every word he spoke. Wonwoo, on the other hand, was losing patience. He crossed his arms over his chest and stared down at the lighthouse keeper. If this were a cartoon, a thought bubble with gears turning would appear over his head. Feeling sorry for the prisoner was all fine and dandy, but it didn’t help them. What were they supposed to do with him now?

Leaving him here would certainly mean his death, but they couldn’t bring him with them, either. What if Krius had set up some kind of tracking chip on him to make sure he didn’t leave the lighthouse?

_Arg!_ This was giving Junhui a headache.

To get some air and clear his head in the hopes that a bright idea might befall him, Junhui strode over to the window. The glass was so thick; everything on the other side looked fuzzy and warped. He could make out seagulls circling the beach and hear their cries over the lull of the ocean. For a moment, it actually eased his mind.

However, a small figure walking up the path toward the lighthouse made him pause and squint. It was a person on foot with short, dark hair. With a start, he recognized him.

“Wonwoo!” he called, panic lodging itself in his throat.

He turned, alarmed by the tone. Junhui waved him over with frantic hands, and he arrived by the window in three easy steps. He peered down, following the trembling fingertip.

“Shit. We’ve got to get out of here,” Wonwoo mumbled, backing away. His eyes searched all around for an exit.

“What’s happening?” the lighthouse keeper wanted to know, his agitation betraying his composed voice. “Where are you going? What’s down there?”

Still searching, Wonwoo answered in a clipped sentence. “Our bounty hunter is here.”

“Then free me! I don’t want Krius to know I’ve failed!”

Ignoring his incessant fretting, Junhui put a hand out to get Wonwoo’s attention. “There’s no other exit. We have to stop him. If he shows up during the final rituals, there’s no telling what will happen.”

“You’re right,” he agreed.

Footsteps stomping on gravel echoed from downstairs. Adrenaline shot through his body, and Junhui jerked his head toward the spiral staircase. Whatever the plan was, it had to be now.

Tugging on the fishnet laid out over the cases in the back, Wonwoo glanced upward at the structural beams. When his eyes met Junhui’s, the latter nodded, understanding what he wanted. They traded places. As Junhui levitated the net toward the roof and hooked it on the various nail heads, Wonwoo went over to their prisoner, speaking quickly.

“If you even hope to return to a normal life, you’re going to play along.”

The man, despite being extremely worried, nodded at his request.

The net was in place just over the top of the stairs. Junhui scurried to hide under the table, behind the barrels, keeping the net in his field of vision. Wonwoo hid on the other side, and their actor remained in center stage.

Not a minute too soon. Angry stomps on the staircase reverberated throughout the building. His heart pounded, and his hands shook so much, Junhui hand to fist them.

“Is someone there?” Chuck called out. “Please, help me!”

Chan appeared at the top of the steps. His eyes zeroed in on the man, and he frowned. Junhui’s gaze darted upward. The younger had to take a few more steps forward, in order to be caught, but by the way he observed their actor, he was very suspicious.

“Who are you?” Chan asked warily, still not coming up the final steps.

“I take care of this lighthouse. Please, help me out of this.”

The kid still didn’t move. “What happened to the two people who were here?”

“They left! They attacked me, tied me up, then left!”

“What did they take with them?” he wanted to know, already backing away.

“Hell if I know!” the man shouted. “Get me out of here!”

“Did you see which way they went?”

He sighed exasperatedly, wiggling his arms in attempt to free himself. “Help me, and I’ll tell you.”

Chan narrowed his eyes, but took a tentative step forward. Then another. _Just one more_ , Junhui chanted internally. Staying in place, Chan surveyed the surrounding with exceptional effort. Junhui shrunk deeper into his hiding spot. Unfortunately, his shoulder scrapped against the corner of the wooden crate behind him and caught the splint wood. A tiny _shrump!_ sounded as a result of the pull. Immediately, Chan spun in its direction.

_Crap-crap-crap…_

His eyes widened the moment Chan noticed him. He charged forward. Junhui pushed the barrels out at him. The kid jumped back, right under the net. Junhui released it.

“Ah!” The net trapped Chan, and tugged him down to the floor by its weight.

Too large and too heavy, the more he struggled to pull it off of him, the worse he tangled himself and his clothes in it.

“Ourgh!” he growled, glaring at Junhui, pulling at the ropes. “You’re going to pay for this!”

“Somehow,” Wonwoo interjected, “I doubt that.”

Chan growled at him, too, his eyes ablaze. At that moment, if he could, he would have killed them. Wonwoo and Junhui pulled Chan to his feet, keeping the net over him to prevent any sudden move. With great difficulty, they tied his hands behind his back and his ankles together. At last, they pulled the net off.

“How did you find us?” Wonwoo wanted to know.

Chan scoffed, scowling up at them. “Didn't you expect me to go through your bags?”

A shiver ran through Junhui. “You stole our coins!”

Chan laughed bitterly. “Bingo!”

Something didn’t make sense. “If our tracks can be traced, why are you the only one here? Why didn’t he send his men after us? He must know I’ve had to drink his potion.”

“You think I’m going to tell you what his plans are?” Chan asked, seemingly confounded by the fact that Junhui even bothered to ask.

“We know that bringing back Soonyoung isn’t part of them,” Wonwoo retorted, leaning against the staircase railing with his arms crossed.

“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” Chan grounded out.

“Keep telling yourself that,” he taunted. “But in the end, denial isn’t going to solve your issues.”

“Killing you might,” Chan threatened with understated vehemence.

While his expression terrified Junhui, Wonwoo seemed unfazed. He merely shook his head and turned away from him. Wonwoo gave the threat as much importance as that of a lunatic’s. On the other hand, Junhui couldn’t help the chill that crept along his spine.

Junhui grabbed another bundle of thick rope and knelt behind the younger. He linked it through the ties, knotted it, then circled it multiple times around the central pole that supported the next floor. Of course, Chan fought against them; however, the rope was coarse enough that he had to stop after a few seconds. Junhui felt guilty about the rope burns, but at least he knew he wouldn’t be able to hurt them now.

“What about me?” the lighthouse keeper demanded impatiently. “I played along.”

“If you know what’s best for you,” Chan turned on him, “You will shut your mouth. They won’t get far before Krius catches them. At that point, he’ll punish everyone who assisted them.” Chan looked up, a menacing and triumphant grin on his face, “Like that village boy. He’s on his way to meet his dear boyfriend.”

Junhui’s eyes widened. “How could you…?” he trailed off, unable to understand how Krius could’ve twisted his mind to the point where he thought these actions were acceptable.

“Hansol had orders, and he disobeyed,” Chan shot back. “He deserves what is coming to him.” His head shifted to the side, glancing at Wonwoo. “The both of you will get your just desserts, as well. And I cannot wait to witness it.”

Junhui sighed, realizing there was no way to talk sense into him. Chan was far too gone in anger, grief, and delusion to listen. Whatever fog Krius instilled into him was too thick. The lighthouse keeper, stunned by the threats, watched the witchling with hopeless eyes. Since Wonwoo didn’t give any sign of protest, Junhui walked over to the man and untied him.

“Bless you,” Chuck breathed a sigh of relief, then rubbed the life back into his arms.

Junhui nodded, walking to where Wonwoo stood. From the corner of his eye, he saw Chuck move through his things, picking them up and stuffing them into a sack. Hopefully, he can find shelter before he gets caught, Junhui thought.

“You’re all a bunch of fools!” Chan shouted.

To get away from him, the boys descended the steps and stood by the cabinet they hadn’t been able to access earlier. Wonwoo examined the padlock, pulling on it to test its strength.

“Wouldn’t it be too easy?” Junhui wondered, watching him work. Wonwoo had taken out his pocket knife, and now he used its edge to unscrew the hinges of the cabinet, bypassing the lock altogether.

“Perhaps,” he answered, taking the first screw out. “But it doesn’t hurt to check.”

At that point, the lighthouse keeper ran down the staircase, carrying several cases and bags. Seeing them, he stopped.

“There’s nothing but old scrolls in there,” he said. “I’ve already looked.”

That didn’t deter Wonwoo from continuing.

“Do you have a place to go?” Junhui asked.

“Away from here!” he exclaimed, running to the door. He eyed it worriedly, probably still traumatized by the spell. Junhui gave him an encouraging smile. Chuck hitched his bags and jumped over the levitating mirrors, calling back, “Good luck! And thank you!”

Junhui smiled, feeling a sense of accomplishment. He turned to watch Wonwoo dislodge the first door. “Well, at least we freed _one_ person.”

“Assuming he doesn’t get caught,” he replied soberly.

Sighing, Junhui agreed. “Yeah.”

Quickly afterward, Wonwoo undid the last screw and they pulled the cabinet doors off, still connected by the padlock. They set the panels down and studied the small, stone shelves, which housed several scrolls, just like Chuck told them. Cobwebs stretched from one corner to the next, and the dust made the boys sneeze. From the looks of the documents’ condition, Junhui was afraid of touching them for fear they might disintegrate.

“Can you sense any magic around them?” Wonwoo asked.

He shook his head. “No, but I’m more afraid of accidentally destroying them.”

Gingerly, they pulled the first one out and unrolled it. It was blank. They tried the next one. Same thing. Until they got to the bottom shelf, where some scribbles was jotted down.

“That looks like… a math problem,” Junhui commented, squinting at the tiny words and numbers. “He hid a word problem? _This_ is his big secret treasure?”

Wonwoo read through the paragraphs, eyeing the walls, calculating something under his breath. “This refers to this room. The measurements match.”

“Why would he do that?”

“I think…” he started slowly, studying the floor and the hole in it. “I think he might have hidden something under here. Maybe he needed it to be in a specific place for whatever reason. After all, his powers depend entirely on the island, which include magnetic and electrical fields.”

“Huh.” Junhui chewed his bottom lip. “Okay, well, there’s a huge hole. We might as well start there.”

They started to tear through the floorboards, him by hand, and Junhui by magic. They cleared the hole by removing the broken boards to avoid splinters and sharp edges. Standing with both feet on the dirt ground surrounded by planks, they flashed the light underneath in search of his treasure.

After sweeping the lights closer to the back wall, Junhui noticed something. With his powers, he pulled the object over to them. It was a small chest, unlocked. Weird. He couldn’t sense any magic from it, which was even weirder. Kneeling down, Wonwoo glanced at him, and Junhui prepared himself for when he opened it, nonetheless.

Wonwoo flicked the lid open, and it hit the back of the chest with a _thunk!_ Nothing jumped out, and no deadly clouds spilled over, either. After the dust settled, they peered inside. At first, Junhui thought it was an old pet costume of some sort of leprechaun or elf. But then Wonwoo lifted it up by a piece of wood, rotating it around, and Junhui grimaced.

“Ewwww! Is that… His skin?” he asked, swallowing down the overproduced saliva, triggering his gag reflex.

Wonwoo seemed fascinated with it. “It looks like it—probably of his original form.”

It had dirty, coppery and coarse hair, with grayish-green, wrinkled skin. Its nose protruded, making it the most prominent part of its hideous face. Its fingers were long and skinny, its kneecaps too large for its scrawny legs, poking through the ripped and dirty, and nondescript clothes.

“Why would… How did… What…” Stammering, Junhui had no idea what questions to ask first. He wanted to know why Krius would keep this, how he even shed his skin like a snake, and what he looked like now. None of those thoughts could be formed into comprehensible sentences. Instead, he just stuttered and decided to give up.

“I have no idea why,” Wonwoo offered, “But if he went through this much effort to hide it, it has to be significant. As for how he did it…” He shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine.”

Junhui shuddered. “What does he look like now?”

“No one can say,” Wonwoo answered easily. “The ones who do aren’t known to be very garrulous.”

“So what do we do with this?” Junhui eyed it with equal parts morbid fascination and repugnance.

Wonwoo closed the lid. “We’re taking it.”

Groaning, Junhui wanted to shake his head, but resisted the urge. He knew it was important, and they needed it to tip the balance, but holy shoot, it looked gross. Shuddering, he took in a deep breath, reminding himself that he’d had to perform dissections on frogs and mice, so he really shouldn’t be this big of a wimp.

“Relax, kitten,” Wonwoo said with an eye roll. “I’ll carry it.”

“Thanks,” he mumbled, watching him stuff the small chest into his bag.

Standing back up, Wonwoo threw a glance upward and lowered his voice. “How well did you tie him up?”

“Hopefully well enough to give us time to get to Point G,” Junhui replied. “If Krius doesn’t find out and frees him.”

Wonwoo thought for a second, then shook his head. “He won’t. He’ll just send someone else to do Chan’s job.”

His sigh told him that leaving the kid here somewhat pained him. At the very least, it displeased him. Once upon a time, Chan was a nice and sweet boy. Now he was trying to kill them.

By the time they grabbed their gear and jumped over the mirrors and rocks one last time, night had just fallen. The beam of light from the roof swept over the beach, illuminating their spot every half minute or so. Junhui took a moment to stare at the calm sea, listening to the tide whisper.

Then Wonwoo helped him seal the place back up, replacing the mirrors on the railing. They stumbled in the dark for a while, guided only by the sweeping light and their weaker flashlight.

Eventually, they found DK down the path. Too exhausted (and in the absence of immediate danger), they set forth trying to find a good place to settle down for the night.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well then. Channie finally got put in the corner for some much needed time-out XD Hopefully he won't get himself into further trouble this way. Be good!
> 
> Krius' treasure is... gross. I am sorry (꒪⌓꒪)
> 
> BUT WONHUI BEING THE POWER COUPLE THOUGH \\(*0*)/ Now go kick some ass! (๑˃̵ᴗ˂̵)و
> 
> As always, thank you for reading!  
> xoxoxo


	25. Beautiful Moon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WonHui go to the final location to perform the spell and stop Krius, but uninvited guests arrive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys, sorry for posting so late! I had it done yesterday, and today was supposed to be editing, but I ended up rewriting like, 2/3 of it bc the original felt too anticlimactic (it's also 3000 words longer than the first draft). Anyway, enough boring talks. 
> 
> THIS IS THE BIG BATTLE!!! WonHui kicking butts! (ง •̀ω•́)ง✧ Needless to say, it's more of an action chapter, with fluff toward the end.
> 
> Warnings for non-graphic violence and blood. 
> 
> -

 

 

“Can’t fall asleep?”

Wonwoo’s question startled him, and Junhui froze like a kid caught stealing from the cookie jar.

After leaving the lighthouse, they had ridden down the beach and found a lifeguard tower. No one sat on duty, and from the layers of dust and sand, the chances of that changing were slim. The boys deemed it a good shelter for the approaching night.

For once, the door wasn’t locked, and they snuck in to hide from the bitingly icy ocean winds. Wonwoo tied DK’s rein with enough slack to allow him to move about under the tower if the rain poured. So far, it had mercifully held off.

Stumbling inside, the boys had checked the corners of the small space for unwelcome creatures. Seeing none, they put down their gear and spread the tarp out. Itdidn’t offer much comfort, but it beat sleeping on the sandy damp planks. They shared some of the rations, then settled down for the night.

That had been at least two hours ago.

Usually, by now Junhui would be somewhere in Dreamland and wouldn’t return to reality until the next morning; falling asleep quickly was one of his skills, after all. However tonight, sleep evaded him. He’d been so intent on figuring out how to shut down his brain, he hadn’t realized that all the fidgeting and tossing from side to side would disturb Wonwoo.

“Sorry,” Junhui whispered, although there was absolutely no need to. Wonwoo was already awake. “I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

“You didn’t,” he replied. After a short pause, he turned his head to look for Junhui in the dark. “What’s the matter?”

Junhui shrugged, the gesture making a sound as his jacket rubbed against the tarp. If his partner couldn’t see it, at least he heard it.

“That’s not an answer,” Wonwoo reprimanded.

Swallowing, Junhui shifted to his back and chewed on his bottom lip to try to put into words what he was feeling. His eyes scanned the ceiling, while his fingers played with his sleeves.

“You know the feeling you get before the first day of school, or before an important exam? You feel ready, but at the same time, you know that a million things could go wrong, and it terrifies you. You want to imagine the good part, like, how relieved you’ll be after you turn in your test, knowing it was over. But you can’t, because you’re too worried about what’s gonna be on the test.”

“Yeah?”

Junhui sighed. “Assuming Krius doesn’t smite us before then, you said we’ll make it to the location in less than a day. Which means that at this time tomorrow night, we’ll either be incredibly happy or dead.”

Wonwoo moved, and the planks creaked under his weight. Junhui looked over; the other tucked his folded arm under his head. “You’re going to drive yourself crazy if you keep thinking in that manner,” he said.

Turning to him, Junhui asked, “What are you suggesting then?”

“Stop scaring yourself.” Junhui blinked, but Wonwoo appeared very calm. “Failure is a part of life, I’m not denying that. But you have to overcome your fear of it.”

“It’s not that easy,” Junhui argued. “Especially when failing tomorrow means death. Your own life depends on my performance tomorrow. Aren’t you even a little nervous?”

“No,” he answered right away.

Junhui arched a brow, completely incredulous. “Seriously?”

“You just have to want it enough,” Wonwoo shrugged. “Want it more than your fears and worries.”

Letting the words sink in, he mulled it over. Wonwoo had a point, but Junhui had yet to find something he wanted that badly. Maybe that was his problem? Not fully investing himself for fear of getting disappointed?

By dint of waiting for a reply, he imagined that Wonwoo must have given up and gone to sleep. The witchling kept staring at the ceiling, unable to stop his thoughts from spinning. His stomach churned whenever he so much as thought about what awaited him the next day.

“You can’t just stay awake the whole night.” The deep and comforting voice broke through the silence one more time.

Junhui adjusted to his side. “Neither can you.”

“I will as soon as you do. I can’t have you make the journey sleep-deprived. Then we’ll really lose.”

Scoffing, Junhui rolled his eyes, although he appreciated the attempt at humoring him. After a pause, he said, “You know, my friend Jeonghan has the best solution for insomnia.”

“Yeah?”

“Mm-hm,” he nodded, remembering. “A glass of warm milk. A lightly toasted piece of bread with jam. My dad used to joke that I was probably just hungry, but it worked, so no complaints from me!”

Wonwoo chuckled.

With a sigh, Junhui shifted a little, voice wistful. “I hope he’s been doing okay. When I left, we weren’t really on good terms.”

“Your dad saw the letter?” he guessed.

“Yeah. He told me it was rubbish. Things settled for a while, but then I found Mom’s photos and Soonyoung’s note. He had been so... angry that day…”

“He was scared. He didn’t want to lose his son, too.” Breathing out, Wonwoo shifted to lie on his back. “I’m sorry.”

Junhui shook his head, scratching the tarp again. “You couldn’t have known. In a way, I’m glad everything happened.”

His shoes thumped the floor as Wonwoo pulled up his knees. “Everything?”

“Yeah,” Junhui cleared his throat. “I mean, I could have done without all the near-deaths experiences,” he admitted, prompting the other to chuckle lowly. “And the whole trip hasn’t been all that pleasant, but it gave me what I always wanted from my parents: the truth. Now in hindsight, I wonder if they didn’t see this day coming. It could be why they raised me to be an obedient and passive son. I suppose that if Mom hadn’t left, it probably would’ve worked.”

Wonwoo listened to the confession, then asked, “She never gave you any sign of her magic? Even accidentally?”

“Nope,” Junhui replied. “The closest thing to ‘magic’ I witnessed was her knack for gardening. People often kid that she must have two green hands, rather than just one green thumb, but she was part of the neighborhood gardening club, so I doubt it was real magic.” He chuckled. “Other than that, she was the most ordinarily wonderful mother.”

“Well, I’m glad to hear that you found the silver lining,” Wonwoo teased, and Junhui smiled.

“Don’t forget my powers,” he waved his fingers. “That’s pretty neat, too.”

His deep laugh echoed through the dark, and Junhui smiled again, staring at his indistinct profile. Finally getting the real story of his maternal family tree, and developing his magic were both wonderful, but there was a third point to the silver lining.

Had Hayun not disappeared, had Junhui not followed after her, he wouldn’t have met the person laying mere inches away from him now. He experienced the bitterness of abandonment, but later tasted the sweetness of love, something he never knew could feel so fleeting yet intense in the same breath.

And it was all thanks to this person. 

Sensing his stare, Wonwoo looked at him. “What?”

But Junhui just smiled and shook his head. “Nothing. Just… daydreaming.”

Wonwoo reached up to lightly flick him. “You should be doing some _night_ dreaming instead. It’s late, go to sleep, moonlight.”

“The moon doesn’t sleep at night,” he retorted, giggling when Wonwoo rolled his eyes in feigned exasperation.

“Fine, but good boys do. Now close your eyes.”

Defiantly, Junhui stuck his tongue out and laughed. Wonwoo shook his head, but the hint of a smile could faintly be seen in the dark. “Okay, I’ll be good. Night, Wonwon.”

The latter snorted, but his gaze was gentle. “Night, kitten.”

Objectively, there was no telling what would become of them by tomorrow. No matter how much positive thinking Junhui did, it didn’t stand much of a chance against reality. As much as he wanted to get all his feelings across, to hear what Wonwoo felt about him, to see if they could even progress and grow together, he couldn’t broach the subject. Because there was no guarantee that they’d both make it out alive. It would be too cruel to imagine a happy future.

So for now, he’ll simply make do with what they have: each other in the present.

 

 

The next morning, the duo returned to the main road through the forest, and last night’s lighthearted conversations seemed like a distant dream in comparison to the stark reality of what they were about to do. Junhui was grateful for DK, because his gallop masked the trembles that overtook the witchling’s body the farther they traveled.

According to the map, the location was somewhere in the woods on some kind of mountain or hill. When they began to enter the forest, Wonwoo slowed DK down due to the terrain and lack of trail. That did nothing to cease the anxiety. Junhui was so on edge, Wonwoo had to reach for his hands to steady them. 

Junhui didn’t want to get there yet, but at the same time, slowing down meant dragging out the inevitable. Wonwoo was either too preoccupied with his own thoughts to try and talk to him, or he thought it better to let Junhui in peace.

At last (too soon?), they stopped at the bottom of a large, rock wall. Junhui craned his neck, studying the moss and vines growing in the cracks, wondering if the jutted edges that snaked around the huge stone formation, could hold their weights.

While Wonwoo dismounted and guided the horse to the nearby stream, Junhui strode to the wall and studied the serpentine path. His brows furrowed. The cuts in the stone appeared too sharp, too new. Could Freya Blodwen have carved the trail for them? If she did, then it would suggest that they were at the right location, but also that she didn’t ditch them. That was one piece of good news.

Wonwoo returned with their bags, and swinging them over their shoulders, the pair began the hike. At the top of the mountain, his eyes roamed the flat surface as Junhui caught his breath. Green treetops peeked over the edge and between the boulders littering the area.

“I thought Freya Blodwen was supposed to meet us here,” Junhui commented, glancing nervously at his partner.

“She’ll show up,” Wonwoo guaranteed, although Junhui wasn’t sure out of confidence or need to reassure them of that fact. “Let’s go over there,” he gestured to the right. “I think I saw a glint of metal.”

Rounding the rock, indeed, they did find something metallic: a green trunk, two burlap sacks, and a wooden case.

“Apparently, this is where we’re supposed to setup,” Junhui said under his breath, kneeling to open each container.

One by one, he took out a hand-sized cauldron holding a box of chalk, and four candles. He put them aside and undid the latch of the trunk. Inside laid fresh flowers, some wood, and a small dagger. One burlap sack carried jars with various roots, and the other had bottles with questionable liquids. Just seeing the ingredients overwhelmed him. He blew out a breath.

In the meantime, Wonwoo had pulled out the diagram with all of the symbols from the Pillars drawn in, the bags of dirt, and Hayun’s journals. Junhui grabbed the one with the instructions for the ritual and flipped to the right page.

“Okay,” he said to himself, squaring his shoulders. “We need to reproduce the same diagram on the ground with chalk, and then trace the lines with something sharp to make it a permanent mark on the mountain.”

“Want me to do it?” Wonwoo asked, leaning over the witchling’s shoulder to glance at the directions. He shook out a piece of chalk and used the box as a paper weight.

“Yeah, thanks.”

Wonwoo moved over to have room. “How big does it have to be?” Kneeling, he analyzed the area with the least amount of crevices.

“It doesn’t say, but probably sizable enough that you can include all the details.” He nodded, starting to draw the circle.

Junhui went back to the notes, scanning the next steps. Before he forgot, though, he threw Wonwoo the small, chisel Freya Blodwen included with the flowers. He caught and pocketed it. Next, the instructions dictated that Junhui placed the candles so that he may ‘set the compass rose on fire’.

“What does _that_ mean?” he mumbled under his breath, scratching at his hair wildly. A compass rose, he thought, like the four main directions. How did that relate to the diagram? Glancing over at Wonwoo, Junhui noted that he was starting on recreating the smaller symbols. A circle. Both had that in common. North, East, South, West... Four points, each at a different quadrant. _That’s it!_ The candles were supposed to be place at those same locations, and then lit up.

Way to make a simple task overly complicated.

Waiting on Wonwoo, Junhui set the four candles to the side along with their compass. He moved on, picking up the cauldron. He cut a slice of all the roots provided and counted each drop of different aromatic oils before adding them in the cauldron. Then he stacked the logs together to make a small fire pit and set the cauldron over the flames. He stirred the brew with a stick until the mixture became homogenous.

_Pluck the stars from the sky. Wave hello to the moon. Welcome back the sun. Divide the year into four seasons._

By process of elimination, Hayun had to be talking about the flowers. The rest of the instructions demanded that Junhui recite the incantation thirteen times, keeping the candles burning throughout the whole ritual, and to place the cauldron nearby so all the elements can come together.

Now Junhui just needed to figure out the order in which to add these flowers. The first three were simple enough: star, moon, and sunflowers. He plucked one by one, dropping them into the solution. Then he picked up the last four kinds of flowers, going by their blooming seasons. For spring, he dropped in a clover and its floweret, then an orange dahlia for summer, a pumpkin bud for autumn, and a poinsettia for winter. He stirred the cauldron slowly, allowing himself to laugh very briefly at the stereotypical image of a witch, a cauldron and spell book. All he needed was a cat. Maybe HuiHui could be his familiar, he thought idly.

“Done!” Wonwoo exclaimed, dusting his hands.

Junhui peeked behind him at the diagram, then at his red hands. “You didn’t have to make the grooves that deep!” he frowned.

Wonwoo shrugged like it was no big deal that he carved a whole centimeter into a rock designing an intricate diagram. Gesturing at the book in the witchling’s lap, he changed the subject. “What’s next?”

With a few taps on the rim of the cauldron to let the oil drip down the stirring stick, Junhui pulled it out. “I need to recite this incantation thirteen times and light the candles.”

Wonwoo pulled him to his feet, and the latter stretched his arms over his head, keeping his index inside the pages to keep his place. He set the open book down and got on all fours, using the compass to find the four directions. Wonwoo marked them with a dot, and Junhui lit the candles, melting their ends a little to make the wax stick to the surface of the mountain.

With the four candles in place, the boys stood back. Only a few seconds had passed, but he realized what the grooves were for. As the wax melted, it would collect in the furrows, as sort of a seal between the earth and the flames. That was cool.

He turned to the next page to start reading the incantation.

 

 

 

> _Chase away the clouds, let the stars shine bright._
> 
> _Allow the nights to no longer be filled with fright._
> 
> _Call back the sun to warm these frozen days._
> 
> _Awaken people from their numbing haze._
> 
> _Make hatred and fear dissolve like mist._
> 
> _Move time forward, make it swift._
> 
> _Put an end to the countless torment._
> 
> _No more greed and contempt._
> 
> _Fill their hearts with life and love once more._
> 
> _Free them all from this sorrowful shore._

 

Dark clouds pulled thicker overhead, and thunder grumbled; its booming sound pounded against his chest, making the witchling pause momentarily. He and Wonwoo stared up at the sky, watching in amazement as the clouds swirled over their little perch, spinning into a point. As the sky changed drastically, the wind began to howl, sweeping down on them and the forest nearby. It was clear that a big storm was brewing, and that was just one read-through. Another gust rushed past them, almost sending the boys toppling over.

His eyes darted to the candles. Despite the flames swaying wildly with the strong winds, they remained lit. Still, Junhui moved closer to them just in case.

Clenching the notebook in his arms, he shouted above the gale nine more times. At the end of the tenth, a tremor shook the earth, knocking him off-balance a few steps.

“I got you!” Wonwoo gripped the boy’s forearm, steadying him. “Keep chanting!”

Junhui struggled to catch his breath with the wind blowing over his face, but he inhaled and tried to get the words out.

A rock exploded to his right.

Junhui yelped, and the boys jumped apart in shock. His heart threatened to dislodge the book as he clutched it to his chest. He met Wonwoo’s startled expression as the latter ran toward the witchling, cupping a hand around his mouth to be heard over the howling winds.

“You need to be careful and—”

“Doesn’t that get your blood pumping?” a male cackled.

The pair whipped around.

His mouth hung open as Junhui set his eyes for the first time on _him_. With dirty, gray, and wispy, long hair, Krius approached, his face gaunt and sickly pale. His chin protruded to a point, which only made his mouth look even wider, the opening reaching almost as far back as his ears. His crooked nose curved down, and his beady black eyes set atop his head were much too close together.

Despite the anthracite-colored suit and shiny dress shoes he wore, he didn’t look human at all. His claw-like fingers closed around the head of a cane as he leaned forward in a mock bow. A slow and sinister grin stretched his thin lips.

“You look surprised to see me,” he commented. “Was all this not done in my honor?”

The sky grumbled in response. A crack of lightning erupted within the swirling clouds. A tremor shook the mountains, stronger than the last.

Wonwoo threw Junhui a warning glance, his body coiled, ready for battle. Krius saw the exchange, smiling. He turned his head to look at the witchling with fascination. Wonwoo pulled out the knife from his pocket and threw it.

“Oh!” Krius whirled around, putting his hand out. The knife froze in midair, and so did Wonwoo. Immediately, he turned to Junhui and waved his arm.

_What did that do?_

Junhui halted in confusion, watching him strut around, wearing a satisfied gleam in his eyes. Understanding soon dawned on the boy. Krius believed he had frozen Junhui, too, but the latter felt no different. Nevertheless, Junhui played along.

While Krius wasn’t watching, Junhui sought the energy surrounding Wonwoo and peeled it away the same way he deactivated the shields.

Clueless of the meddling, Krius stopped in front of the frozen boy. A smug grin on his face, he commented mockingly, “That wasn’t very nice. Stabbing a man in the back is cowardly. I expected better from my Number One Fugitive,” he laughed with glee.

He strode over to the knife in midair and retrieved it. At that very moment, Wonwoo lunged forward and tackled him to ground. The men wrestled; the cane flew to the side. Wonwoo punched him in the jaw and grabbed the cane, shoving it under his throat.

“Finish the incantation!” he shouted at Junhui. “Lock yourself behind your shield and find the spell to defeat him!”

Not losing a second, Junhui scrambled to obey, reciting the incantation at the same time as he attempted to project a shield around himself and the candles. For once, the spell worked when he wanted it to, and he sighed in relief when he saw at the bubble-like barrier.

In the few seconds it took him to achieve as much, Wonwoo appeared to have kept a good hold on their adversary. Still, Junhui watched them closely, ready to intervene at any given point.

“It seems you’re no longer threatened by my powers, are you, my boy?” Krius grounded out from under his cane. “How exceptionally exciting!”

Junhui finished the eleventh reading and started on the twelfth.

The mountain shook. Krius used the tremor to kick Wonwoo off of him. Before Junhui could attempt to stop him, he shot Wonwoo twenty feet away. The latter tumbled and rolled to a stop. No time at all to catch his breath, the earth turned into quicksand, swallowing him to his knees. As soon as it did, the rock hardened, trapping him in place.

Krius’ cackles filled the air, punctuated by a strike of lightning. Junhui screwed his eyes shut at the bright light. When he opened them, Krius was stalking toward him, all human appearances shed. His black eyes gleamed with the joy of a predator cornering his prey.

“Let’s see how strong you are.”

The sudden blow to the shield made Junhui cry out, tumbling to his knees. It felt like Krius had hammered nails into his skull. Panting at the pain, he forced his shield to take the following blows as he finished the twelfth recitation and frantically flipped through the pages for the spell to send the monster into nothingness.

_Where the hell is Freya Blodwen?_

“Those had been warnings, my dear!” he shouted. “Prepare to join your loving mother!”

Junhui shrieked, covering his head as Krius shot the shield a final time and destroyed it. The younger’s defenses gone, Krius advanced and kicked the book away. In the next second, he lit it on fire.

“No!” Junhui screamed, lunging to grab it despite the flames, but Krius flung it over the edge of the cliffs.

He looked down at the witchling, a sadistic smile pulling one corner of his mouth upward. Junhui swept his arm, attempting to force him off the mountain, but his opponent merely stumbled back a step. Delighted over the bold move, he grinned.

“How brave, yet very foolish of you.”

With only the flick of his wrist, he shoved the boy through the air. Junhui crashed, rolling through the dirt.

“Ugh.” Groaning, Junhui tried to pry his eyes open and lift himself on his elbows. His head throbbed from the hit, and stars danced in front of his vision, making it impossible to focus. He dragged himself toward the nearest rock to give him leverage.

Another earthquake raked through the region, much stronger than the last, and he gripped his rock with all the force he had left. The quake proved beneficial, though. Through the blurry images, he could make out Wonwoo pulling his legs out of his prison. As soon as he was free, he whipped his head toward the carved diagram, where Krius was in the midst of extinguishing the candles. Having to act quickly, Wonwoo picked up one of the rocks by his foot and pitched it at the back of the imp’s head.

In the blink of an eye, Krius appeared behind Wonwoo. He pulled a sword out of his cane, driving it into his back.

“No!” Junhui slashed the air with his right arm. His magic deflected the blow, and the point grazed Wonwoo’s shoulder instead. He flicked his wrist and sent the sword down the cliffs.

“You meddlesome brat!” Krius screamed at him, his eyes ablaze.

Wonwoo whirled around, elbowing him in the face. Krius staggered back, his nose dripping blood.

_The spell is working_. He could be hurt now.

“One more time, Junnie!” Wonwoo shouted as he kept hitting the imp.

Junhui got back to his feet and ran, ignoring the aches and stings tearing at his flesh.

“Recite it one more t—” Wonwoo’s punch was blocked.

Krius, his face battered and oozing red, snarled, “Hold that thought, Junhui!” He gripped Wonwoo’s fist and spun them around. In the same instant, he pulled a knife out of thin air and pressed it against his hostage’s throat.

Junhui skidded to a stop ten feet away from them. His gaze flashed to Wonwoo’s, then at the sharp blade below his chin. If he so much as breathed too deeply, it’ll draw blood. As if unable to feel the danger, Wonwoo continued to fight his captor, which only made things worse.

“Ah!” he cried out as Krius squeezed the knife harder against his skin, stopping his attempt.

“Now, dear Junhui,” Krius panted, sniffling from his bloody nose. “The party is over. Time to blow out the candles and dump the cauldron. And remember!” His voice was hysterical now, his steps shaky as he turned their bodies to follow the witchling’s movements. “One step out of line, and your precious Wonwoo pays with his blood.”

“You're not going to get away with this,” Junhui countered, keeping them in his field of vision.

Maniacally, Krius cackled. “But I already am! Now, do as I say!”

Gingerly, Junhui walked over to the diagram and knelt, stalling for as much time as he could. He looked up at them with all the hatred in his being.

“Hurry up!” Krius shouted.

Junhui leaned down to the first candle.

“Jun, stop!” Wonwoo yelled. “Just finish—”

“Shut up!”

Junhui’s head spun, trying to find a solution to this ultimatum, but only frustrated tears came. Looking at Wonwoo over the flame, he mouthed, “I’m sorry. I can’t let you die.” He blew it out. Wonwoo’s face contorted into agony.

“Now the cauldron!” Krius urged. “Dump it out!”

Junhui stared at it, his foot lifting to kick it.

Losing his patience, Krius shouted again, lunging toward him. At the same moment, another tremor shook the mountain top. In his delirious state, Krius lost his footing. Wonwoo took advantage of it to shove him away, smacking the knife out of his grip.

“No!” Krius howled, turning around and sliced the air.

The slab of land where Wonwoo stood crumbled, and he fell with the pieces.

“Wonwoo!” Junhui ran toward the ledge, slamming his chest on the ground to peer over the edge. “Oh, my god!”

A few feet below, Wonwoo was barely holding on to the only chunk of purchase. One side of the ridge broke loose. He dangled in the air with one hand.

“Grab my hand!”

Straining, Wonwoo managed to find a grip, but their arms weren’t long enough. He couldn’t reach it.

“Forget it!” Wonwoo yelled at me. “Go take care of Krius!”

“Stop talking nonsense!” Junhui shouted back, sitting up to shrug off his jacket. He gripped it and lowered it down to him.

“You have no leverage! We’ll both fall in!”

“For once in your life, Jeon Wonwoo, do what I tell you!”

Wonwoo glared at him, but gritted his teeth and let go of one hand to grab the sleeve. Immediately, his weight pulled Junhui forward, but he strained his arms, pouring out his powers to pull him up to him. Junhui was not going to lose him this way or any other if he could help it.

Eventually, Junhui managed to tug him high enough that Wonwoo swung himself up. Panting, Junhui stared at him, for a very brief moment feeling like the happiest person on earth.

“Thank you,” he breathed, smiling faintly at him.

Junhui nodded. “Anytime.”

As they caught their breaths, Krius strolled over and stood over them. In his hands, he carried the cauldron and dumped it out with gleeful satisfaction. The oil dripped out onto the ground, streaming along the cracks.

Flashing his eyes to the diagram, Junhui realized that not only were the candles out, he also kicked them all away. It was all over. Krius won.

“Ah,” Krius sighed happily, throwing aside the cauldron. “Together at last.” His mocking tone made Junhui seethe. “I’ve always been a true romantic at heart, so I think I’ll kill you both at the same time. But before that, Junhui, I believe you have something I want.”

His hand shot out toward the witchling, and the latter shut his eyes, throwing himself against Wonwoo.

Junhui didn’t get very far before an invisible force slammed him against the rough terrain, knocking the breath out of him. In the same instant, Wonwoo shouted for him. But his running footsteps stopped abruptly, replaced by a sharp cry of pain.

“W-Wonwoo…” Junhui rasped, fighting to move and find him. His head felt heavy, and his eyes stung as if rubbed with sand. Tears rolled down his cheeks as he gritted his teeth and swallowed around the burn of his throat. He gathered his numb limbs from under him.

“I didn’t want to do this,” Krius clicked his tongue.

Another forceful shove sent the witchling to the ground, cracking his skull against the rock. “Ah!”

“Now look what you’ve done,” the monster continued to yap somewhere above him. “And just when I’d decided to be merciful and generous.” He clicked his tongue again.

“You…” Wonwoo hissed, voice weak but full of venom. “You wouldn’t know the meaning of those sentiments even if they kicked you in the face.”

Krius laughed, a shrill and inhuman sound, made all the more disturbing when it blended into the storming winds. “My, am I going to enjoy bleeding you to death.”

“No!” Junhui could barely spit the word out, but his eyes finally flashed open, searching frantically for the others. When he spotted them a good dozen feet away, he gasped, gut clenching.

Wonwoo laid sprawled on the ground, ankles and wrist bound by stone shackles projected from the cliffs. By his right flank, a puddle of red liquid pooled, the surface area increasing by the second. Krius grinned down at him, one hand holding a small dagger with a bloodied tip.

“Killing me won’t change the fact that you’re merely an imposter,” Wonwoo taunted, much to Junhui’s distress. What the hell was he doing, provoking the monster?

As if to turn Junhui’s worries into reality, Krius sneered and leaned closer to the prone prisoner. The moment he clenched his fist, Wonwoo howled in pain, body arching off of the ground. The wound opened even larger, blood gushing out. Krius relaxed his hand, and Wonwoo crashed back to the ground, head slack.

Junhui still couldn’t move, the force that held him down seemingly all the heavier, pressing down on his chest. He wondered if Krius was slowly sucking his powers out. Whatever was happening to him, he couldn’t just lie here and take it. He had to save Wonwoo.

Focusing all of his energy on a nearby boulder, he attempted to lift it in the air. On a regular day, its size and weight wouldn’t have given him too much trouble. But as things stood, he could barely levitate it above a foot. A whimper lodged itself in his throat, but he gritted his teeth and used all the force he had left to shoot it at Krius’ head.

For a second, Junhui dared to hope that it would work.

The rock flew through the air; however, its impact barely nudged Krius a step. He chuckled, turning over his shoulder, and pinned the witchling with a gleeful and terrifying look. The beady eyes gleamed with a strike of lightning, and Junhui shivered, reflexively shrinking away, whimpering.

Faintly, he heard Wonwoo trying to distract the monster with more verbal jibes, but Krius no longer found them amusing. Instead, he gutted Wonwoo once more to hear the cries of agony, then stalked slowly toward his other victim.

“That wasn’t very nice of you, Junhui,” Krius chided. “The more you fight it, the more painful it’ll be, you know.”

The witchling’s eyes flickered to Wonwoo, face contorted in pain, the pool of blood all the thicker. “Just… please. Just let him go,” Junhui begged, choking on his own breath. “He’s innocent. You don’t need him to get my powers.”

“Ah,” Krius nodded patiently, as if speaking to a small child. He lowered himself to his haunches. “That’s where you’re wrong.”

The confusion showed clearly on the boy’s face, and Krius chuckled, reaching to tap at his forehead. “You still have so much to learn about magic, my dear. For a fledging such as yourself, it is imperative that you protect the source of your magic, as it is both your strongest and weakest points,” he explained. “Until your magic matures and you reach your full potential, your powers depend entirely on dear Wonwoo.” With a mocking show of hand, he gestured to the other’s labored breathing and pallid skin tone.

Terrified doe eyes widened in fear as Junhui understood the reason why his powers were so weak: Wonwoo was dying. Because the two of them were linked, Krius needed to kill the latter in order to rob the witchling’s powers. Junhui couldn’t breathe.

“It—It can’t be true,” he scrambled for anything to deny it. “Y-you sent Wonwoo away. You set him free.”

“Mm,” Krius nodded thoughtfully. “A rather large mistake on my part. You see, I thought the motivation behind you coming into your powers was your mother, which I’d already taken care of.” He laughed, and Junhui squeezed his eyes shut. “I never expected things to turn out this way. Just think!” He glanced over to Wonwoo, mocking. “If you hadn’t returned for him, none of this would have happened!”

Even through the torment, Wonwoo glared at him.

“Love really does do wonders,” Krius mused. “Now wouldn’t that be quite an experiment? Bottling love. I’m sure I could work something out from your magic.”

“What would a monster like you know about love?” Wonwoo rasped, voice barely heard over the grumbling skies.

Krius laughed again. “Quite a lot, actually. Love makes you weak and easily exploitable. Love imprisons you, something you should be familiar with, Wonwoo, considering how you came to sign my Pact. Love turns you foolish, gives you false hope. It makes even the most level-headed and rational people into malleable clay and pretty puppets.”

“Chan,” Wonwoo whispered. “You broke him.” There was no mistaking the accusation and hate in his voice.

“I merely tweaked his brain here and there,” Krius dismissed the issue. “He was foolish on his own. He’ll soon join his brother dearest.”

From the corner of Junhui’s eye, something metallic caught the light. He turned to look just as the blade of a sword sliced the air and dropped by Krius’ neck. Junhui gaped seeing the person on the end of the weapon.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Chan demanded through a clenched jaw. His disheveled hair blew every which way in the wind, and his eyes were rimmed red. Junhui had no idea how he managed to escape the confines of those ropes, but by the state of his clothes and scratched up skin, it wasn’t an easy feat.

“Answer me!”

Krius smiled, the corners of his mouth curling upward as he dramatically raised both hands above his head. “Channie,” he greeted sweetly. “How nice of you to join us.”

“Shut up!” He pressed the blade closer, eliciting a small hiss from his opponent. “I want you to make Soonyoung appear _now_ , or your head is going flying.”

Not feeling threatened at all, Krius chuckled. “You give quite the ultimatum. Very well, I’ll let you see your brother.”

His eyes glinted. Junhui sucked in a breath to warn the boy. But he had no chance.

“Chan, mov—!”

Krius whipped around and grabbed the sword by the boy’s hand. Chan ducked, but couldn’t escape the black smoke swallowing him up. The monster cackled as he watched the column swirl around the boy, drawing pleasure in the look of complete fear and distress, watching gleefully as Chan gripped at his throat, silent screams and pleads for air.

“Say hello to Soonyoung for me!”

Completely out of instincts, Junhui began to struggle, only to find out that he could move. Not wasting any time thinking about the reason, he hurried to his feet and ran. He knew he couldn’t take Krius down by himself, not in this state. He needed Wonwoo.

Skidding to his knees by the other boy’s side, he apologized profusely, hands moving at the speed of light. He tugged at his scarf, pressing the thick wool against the laceration. By some miracle, the stone shackles had been removed, and Junhui could gently move his body in order to reach the stab wound.

“I am so sorry,” Junhui kept repeating, wincing when Wonwoo groaned, breath hitching. “Please stay with me, you promised, remember?”

Free hand shaking, he pulled out the magic salve from his pocket and twisted the cap off with his teeth. He had no idea if it would work on such a dire injury, but he had to try.

“J-Junnie—”

“Shhh, don’t talk!” he implored, vision going hazy. “You’re going to be okay. We’ll get out of here and go on vacation. I’ll take you some place where the moon is prettiest, and—”

A bloody and trembling hand came to rest on his. It was cold, _so so cold_. Blinking the tears away, he glanced up to see Wonwoo smile faintly, face ashen, lips turning blue. “That… that sounds… nice.”

Junhui sniffled, a wet laugh escaping. “Yeah.”

The jar empty, he threw it to the side and pressed his hands around Wonwoo’s face. _Come on, it has to work!_ If Wonwoo can give him energy, then it had to work the other way around, too.

Little by little, Junhui could detect the slightest changes. Wonwoo’s breathing became deeper, his colors returning a fraction. The hold around his wrist turned stronger, and his skin warmed up by a few degrees. Junhui didn’t dare hope too much, but his heart soared all the same.

Wonwoo fluttered his eyes open and found his. A tentative smile appeared despite the obvious pain he was still suffering. But he nodded, and Junhui laced their hands together. He turned toward Krius. The latter still enjoyed himself too much torturing the poor boy.

With their combined powers, Junhui swung his arm with all the force he could muster. The blow knocked Krius several feet away, and he crashed against a boulder. The black smoke surrounding Chan blew away, and the boy gasped for breath, inhaling lungfuls of oxygen, coughing and wheezing.

A growl echoed along with a clash of thunder. Krius flashed his deadly glare toward the boys as he got to his feet. Junhui panicked and squeezed Wonwoo’s hand, slicing the air with his free arm again. It slammed Krius backward with a groan.

“Send him down the cliffs!” Chan shouted.

“That won’t kill him,” Wonwoo replied, still holding Junhui’s hand as he struggled to sit up. “We have to finish the spell.”

The monster got back to his feet, but Junhui sent him against the rocks once more. Wonwoo was right, though. They couldn’t keep playing defense, especially when they were both weakened.

“You’re testing my patience, boys,” Krius threatened, face bloodied by the repeated blows. There were no longer any trace of amusement on his ghastly features. Now he looked like nothing but a monster intent on killing.

With a shout, Junhui pulled Krius’ feet out from under him. Unfortunately, he didn’t hit his head. Lips pulling back in a snarl, he splayed his hands on the ground. Instantly, the cliff began to shake. Cracks formed, huge chunks falling off into the abyss below. Screams and shouts were swallowed up by the deafening noise of the earthquake.

In the midst of it, Junhui lost his balance and the boys fell apart.

“Junnie!”

“Stand back!” Junhui shouted, seeing the cracks appear around him.

A grunt suddenly cut through the chaos, causing the earthquake to cease. Wonwoo lunged forward to yank Junhui away from the edge mere seconds before it fell down the cliffside.

“Where’s Chan?”

They spun around to see him screaming at the top of his lungs as he punched Krius in the gut. The latter grunted from the hit; however, the victory was short-lived. With a smack, he knocked Chan out.

“No!”

Junhui attacked, but Krius deflected the blow with a shield, and the magic bounced off of it. Before he could even understand, the hit slammed against him and Wonwoo. They crashed to the ground.

“Enough games, boys!” Krius shouted, marching toward them, shield surrounding him. “There will be nothing left of you by the time I’m done.” He raised his arm and aimed a ball of energy toward them.

Instincts took over. Wonwoo tugged Junhui toward him the same instant the witchling shut his eyes and conjured up a shield. His body tensed for the attack, expecting the impact to burn right through their defenses.

But it never came.

Instead, he heard Krius’ scream of outrage. “No! You’re supposed to be dead! And _you!”_

His eyes snapped open to see a different protective shield around him and Wonwoo. He wasn’t looking at it, though.

“Are you two okay?” Hayun asked.

Awed, Junhui nodded. He could’ve broken down in tears at that point, but he followed his mother’s eyes as they flashed to Krius.

He was frozen, with some sort of shiny, orange glow around him. Freya Blodwen stood on his left, her arms outstretched to keep him within her hold and immobilize him.

“Boys,” Hayun spoke, keeping the monster within her field of vision. “Go and recreate the ritual. We’ve got him.”

Not waiting a minute longer, the pair hurried along.

“You can’t keep me like this forever!” Krius shouted, somehow managing to beat the storm in volume. To show them what he meant, he inched his arms forward, and while still restricted by his old teacher’s spell, he successfully managed to create a flash between his hands. Very soon, a black ball of smoke, laced with sparks formed.

Seeing that, Hayun focused her powers on him, helping Freya Blodwen to restrain his movements. His arms stopped moving, but the energy ball continued to grow.

Wonwoo put the candles back, and Junhui lit one for him. Using it, he illuminated the others. Then he turned to help the witchling slice the roots, while the latter dropped in the oils and stirred in the flowers. In less than two minutes, they had everything set up.

The candles stood at the four directions; a fire burned under the cauldron, and Junhui melted everything. In response, the storm resumed with even more strength. The intervals between each strike of lightning shortened, and the intensity of the thunderclap increased tremendously. The hurricane winds whipped their hair and clothes, making his eyes water and sting. As they howled and herded the anthracite clouds overhead, Wonwoo gripped his forearm to keep him on his feet.

“An old witch, another who can’t even stand on her own without a crutch, and a fledgling,” Krius snarled, enlarging his fireball. “You really think you can beat me? Go ahead, Junhui. Recite the incantation. It’ll cut off my powers, but it won’t save you from this explosion.”

“Wonwoo!” Hayun called her old friend. “Take Junhui off of this mountain now! Go as far as possible! We’ll hold him off for as long as we can.”

“No!” Junhui protested. “I’m not leaving you here!”

Wonwoo crashed to his knees, digging for something in their bags. “Recite the spell!” he told Junhui as he pulled out the chest with Krius’ old skin.

Seeing what Wonwoo held, Krius’ bravado evaporated. “No! How did you—Stop it!”

Wonwoo ignored his protests and pleading. As Junhui began the incantation, he ran over to Hayun and told her the plan. She and Freya Blodwen, keeping their powers focused on the imp, moved out of the way toward the opposite side of the mountain, leaving the frozen imp on his own. Then Wonwoo placed the chest with the old skin right right in Krius target range.

Junhui finished. The winds tore at the skies, lightning shredding the clouds, thunder booming like canons. A low and terrifying tremor shook the mountain.

After collecting the unconscious Chan, the boys huddled behind the largest boulder they could reach, while Hayun and Freya Blodwen erected a column to protect themselves. At this point, the ball of energy within Krius’ hands had gotten as big as a watermelon. The ritual had taken away his powers. Even if he wanted to disintegrate the fireball, he couldn’t.

“Now! Remove your spells!” Wonwoo ordered.

The two women let go. The storm swallowed the imp’s hysterical screams. The black energy ball hurled straight toward his original form. A deafening explosion shook the ground, sending rocks flying everywhere. Junhui covered his head, and Wonwoo tugged him against his chest. Even behind closed eyes, Junhui could feel the heat and light that resulted from the impact.

When the buzzing in his ears ceased, he untangled his arms from Wonwoo to look around. Everyone directed their gaze upward. Junhui stared at the sky and let out a disbelief laugh.

Millions and millions of stars, big and small, sparkled against the velvet dome. Instead of a single color, the sky had shades of blues and purples. They merged and blended together as if painted by an artist. Off to the side, the crescent moon shone a soft glow, bathing the whole region in its cool gleam. Standing on top of this mountain, the group stared out at the seemingly boundless sky. Transfixed by the sight, they moved out from their hidden spot and spun around, eyes never leaving the sky.

“This is amazing,” Junhui said in awe.

“Yeah, the moon is beautiful tonight,” Wonwoo whispered. Junhui looked over, seeing Wonwoo smile at him with so much wonder and fondness, Junhui couldn’t help but grin back. “You did it, kitten.”

Grabbing his hand, Junhui shook his head. “ _We_ did it.”

“Truly, a remarkable feat.”

They turned. Hayun gently lowered a dozing Chan to the ground with her powers. As fast as she could move, she limped toward her son, her arms outstretched, a tired but happy smile on her beautiful face. He felt Wonwoo pull his hand out from under his. But before Junhui could do anything, his feet took a life of their own. Junhui ran at her and hugged her to him, squeezing hard.

“Mom,” he breathed, closing his eyes, but the tears still overflowed. Had she always been so small? “Oh, my god. I never thought I’d see you again,” he cried.

She returned the same pressure around him, kissing his cheek. “Neither did I, sweetie. Oh, I missed you so much!”

Pulling him out at arm’s length, she wiped away the tears, and they laughed. Junhui felt like his heart was about to burst with so much happiness filling it up.

He kept staring at her, unable to believe he was actually seeing his mother after so many years thinking she was gone for good. Her hair was shorter, choppier than he remembered. Probably a result of having to cut it herself. Her cheeks had sunken and covered in tiny scars, but her brown eyes were just as bright and kind as every memory he had of her.

She studied Junhui, too, assessing how he had changed over the five-year period. He wasn’t quite sure what she saw, but it softened her expression even more, and her smile widened.

“My baby has grown-up to be a beautiful young man,” she said, stroking his hair. “And very soon, a remarkable witch in his own right.”

Junhui laughed, shaking his head and pressing a hand over his face.

Giving him a last look, she glanced to his side. A frown overtook his expression, and he cringed at the upcoming confrontation.

“I’m sorry for not keeping my word, Hayun,” Wonwoo began, his voice full of remorse. He lowered his gaze, unable to meet her reproach.

Surprising them both, she replied, “You kept him safe, that’s all that matters in the end.”

Junhui grinned, as they exchanged grateful smiles.

Footsteps from behind reminded them of Freya Blodwen. She walked up with a appreciative gleam in her eyes. “Thank you all for your help,” she said. “Now Krius won’t be able to hurt anyone else.”

Breathing out a sigh of relief, Junhui wanted to make sure. “So he’s gone for good?”

“Well...” she hesitated, which sent a shiver down his spine.

Putting her hand out, she lifted her index finger, and he stared at the ring there. The band was metal, but what caused his eyes to bulge was the centerpiece. The glass top magnified Krius’ grimace as he attempted to break through. Seeing him move, Junhui jumped back, staring up at her.

“How... How did he not die in that blast?” he asked. “And...”

Calmly, she explained, “I tried to tell you before. His greatest talent is that of trickery. He thought his threats would lead us to destroy him. At which point, he would reverse the spell and kill us. Unfortunately for him, you and Wonwoo found his original form.”

“Then that ball of energy was just for show?” Wonwoo wondered, an eyebrow arched, not willing to believe that.

“Not quite,” she considered her response. “As you saw, it caused a lot of damage.” Her arm swept the cliffside, which had collapsed during the explosion. “In essence, Krius’ own magic backfired on him, and he met his downfall at his own hands.” They nodded in understanding. “I find it a very satisfying show of poetic justice,” she added.

“How so?” Hayun asked.

Smiling, although the gesture not reaching her eyes, she replied, “It’s the same spell he used against Bora and your siblings.”

Hayun nodded pensively, down-casting her eyes. Junhui offered her hand a gently squeeze. She squeezed his right back. “What do you plan on doing now?”

“Return home,” Freya Blodwen answered, “And occupy myself by finding the most suitable prison for this little bugger. After all, I wouldn’t want him to escape one more time. I’m sure you will all be too busy to come take care of my pest problem.” She winked, and Junhui laughed.

“Yes, and we should be heading for the nearest hospital,” Hayun eyed Wonwoo and Junhui, wincing as she assessed their injuries.

Judging for himself, Junhui didn’t have any dire wound, just cuts and bruises, and the goose egg on his head. Unlike Wonwoo, who had been stabbed, sliced, thrown and hit numerous times. In the rest of the world, he’d be wheeled out of the hospital in a full body cast.

“There’s still a few things we need to take care of first,” Wonwoo replied, glancing at him.

Right. Chan. Hayun still didn’t know her childhood friend had been brainwashed and tried to kill them, before he somehow escaped the lighthouse and came to their aid. He was hurt pretty badly, too.

Noticing where Junhui was looking, she spoke up. “He’s okay, but I’ll move him to the lighthouse, while we go liberate Krius’ unjust prisoners. We’ll have time for questions later.”

He and Wonwoo refrained from further comments about the situation as they all bid goodbye to Freya Blodwen.

After they climbed down the mountain, Hayun teleported them, for lack of a better word, to the lighthouse. Clearly, without the Pillars working anymore, the Adamentum spell had ceased to function, as well. What surprised them, though, was the state of the lighthouse. Not that it had been pristine in the first place, but now it looked like it’d been through a tornado. Perhaps the shockwave of the earthquakes caused by the spell had reached the area, which would explain how Chan managed to leave. It was lucky he didn’t get any fatal injury.

With her magic, Hayun cleaned up the place and made sure nothing would break off and crush them to death. The boys helped manually, since Junhui needed to conserve his magic until he could fully recover. They grabbed a cot from Chuck’s stock and laid Chan on it. Once Hayun was sure that he would sleep through the next couple hours, the small group set off for Krius’ castle.

Apparently, the guards disintegrated into smoke or something, because there was absolutely no other soul present. Junhui could only hope that the people who served him were able to leave instead of having to die along with him.

Wonwoo guided them to the cells. Rows upon rows of cells, so many Junhui could hardly believe that they’d all fit in one place. Since it would take hours to free them all by key, Hayun let the boys help with magic. Together, the three of them used their powers to open all the gates at the same time.

The number of people who poured out astonished him. But nothing could have brought him as much relief as seeing Hansol again, together with whom Junhui guessed must be his Kwannie. The blond boy, upon spotting his new friends, broke into a run, face lighting up with pure joy. He crashed against Junhui, and the latter hugged him tightly. Kwannie, or Seungkwan, joined them a few seconds later, and Hansol quickly made the introductions. Since everything was still very much disorganized, they could only promise to visit the village once before leaving Amarut Island. The young couple seemed satisfied with that resolution.

Afterward, the rescue team used Krius’ numerous cars and carriages to transport all the liberated prisoners to their homes.

By the time the group returned to the lighthouse, Chan was starting to wake up. He sat on the cot, one hand supporting his head. As the boys filed inside, Chan glanced over at the noise.

Seeing them caused him to tense up, his back rigid and eyes full of bewilderment and confusion. Poor boy must feel so disoriented. When Junhui lit the lamps, and Chan saw Hayun, his posture changed immediately. First, his eyes widened in shock, then his back relaxed as his brain tried to match reality with Krius’ lies.

On the way here, Junhui and Wonwoo had recounted how Krius got Chan involved, and Hayun had been very quiet through the narrative. Now she sat beside him, explaining the whole story in a gentle voice, recounting everything from Soonyoung and Jihoon, to their secret mission, and finally how they had lost their lives. Chan seemed to listen, but Wonwoo and Junhui stood behind his mother, expecting the kid to snap like a wild animal.

Sharing no such qualms, Hayun took his hand into hers and patted it gently. As soon as she finished talking, Chan cupped his hands over his face and sobbed. Hayun reached forward and pulled him to her, whispering soft comfort and rubbing at his back.

“I am— _hic—_ so sorry, Hayun! I was so stupid!”

“Shh, you didn’t know.”

“But I hurt everyone and—and—and I made everything worse! And then Junhui and Wonwoo—”

Hayun rubbed his back. “They’re both fine, and they don’t blame you. Besides, you fought back, didn’t you? In the end, that’s all that matters. If you hadn’t come when you did, we might not have survived.”

“But still! I am so— _hic_ —so sorry!”

The boy continued to sob, choking on his breath, arms wrapped tightly around his friend. It was a lot to process in such a short amount of time, perhaps a little too much for one person. Eventually, he exhausted himself and fell asleep, curled into a ball by her side.

With the expertise of a mother putting a child to sleep, she lowered his head to the makeshift pillow and pulled the thin blanket over his chest. As he slept, Hayun waved a hand over his forehead. A soft, yellow glow caressed his skin, then disappeared.

“What was that?” Junhui whispered, astonished.

“A soothing spell,” she explained, watching Chan like a frightened, lost puppy. “It’ll help him come to grip with his actions and move on.”

During the night, they heated up some of the water and used it to wash their cuts, and Junhui prayed that none of them would get infected. The lighthouse keeper’s supplies of food provided them dinner, something more substantial than granola bars and jerky. Who knew he’d actually miss spam so much? As they ate, they recollected the events that led them all here, answering his mom’s questions, in addition to asking their own.

Then for the first time since he’d arrived on Amarut Island, Junhui fell asleep contently.

The group realized that everyone knew of Krius’ downfall the next morning, when the beach was filled with the nearby villagers celebrating. The clear sky and bright sun must have been their biggest clue. Winter was still present, but at least they had the chance of seeing the sun again.

Like Wonwoo and Chan. They had stood outside of the lighthouse for at least half an hour, just staring at the surrounding in literally a brand new light. There were a lot of things Junhui took for granted, but that moment made him realize how much he overlooked sunlight. He’d only been stuck here for what, two weeks? And seeing it again brought him incredible joy. He couldn’t even begin to imagine what it must have felt like for them.

From the lighthouse, they traveled back to town via magic to return Chan to his parents. After a short meeting with Minji and Hwan, which also resulted in tears of gratitude and remorse for what their son did, Hayun insisted on taking the boys to see a doctor. 

The whole day flitted by in a blur, mainly because Junhui was put on bedrest and he slept through most of it. During the few times he woke up for some water and made to eat, he noted that Wonwoo was missing, which was even weirder when they were currently staying at his apartment.

“He still has a few things to take care of,” Hayun said when he asked.

“His injuries are worse than mine,” Junhui argued. “Why isn’t he resting?”

His mother chuckled, brushing his fringe back into place. “Silly of you to think I could have stopped him.”

Junhui made a face. “That’s true,” he admitted, laying back down and letting her coddle him for a bit. Eventually, he spoke up again, “Mom?”

“Hm?”

“Do you like Wonwoo?”

She arched a brow and gave him an amused look. “It might not look like it anymore, but he is my friend.”

“Well, yeah, I know, but I mean…”

“Yes?”

“Like… I mean, I… Wonwoo and me, we’re…” His thoughts were a mess. He kept his fingers busy by tracing the sewing line of the pillow case, as if it’d help untangle what he wants to say.

Peeking up through the gap in the comforter, he couldn’t tell from looking at her if she was purposely being oblivious. In the end, he couldn’t handle the embarrassment nor the heat in his cheeks. He pulled the blanket over his head, hearing the chuckle.

“Just wake me up when he comes back.”

She patted the lump of blankets, aiming for where his shoulder would be. “You _are_ sleeping in his bed, and from what I remember, the couch isn’t very comfortable, so I’m sure you’ll know when he returns.”

“Mom!” Junhui curled up even more into a ball, so grateful that he was completely covered so his burning cheeks wouldn’t be seen.

Hayun laughed again, getting up from the edge of the mattress. “But just remember that you’re both recovering, so no strenuous activities, please, even more so when I’m only down the hall.”

“ _Oh my god, MOM!”_ Junhui nearly shrieked, kicking his legs as she laughed harder. He knew she was merely teasing, but it was so embarrassing, he thought he could die. As much as he wanted Wonwoo to rest, he was infinitely relieved that his partner wasn’t around. Honestly, Junhui would probably die of mortification if Wonwoo overheard this conversation.

From the footsteps, Hayun must have stopped at the doorway when she calmed down from the laughing fit. She cleared her throat and called, “Jun.”

He peeked, seeing her offer him a gentle smile.

“To answer your question: I do. And as long as you’re happy, then I’ll support you.”

Junhui’s heart beat so fast, he was afraid it’d be heard. But he couldn’t contain the happiness, not when a million butterflies fluttered in his belly and his lips stretched into a wide grin. “I love you, Mom.”

Hayun softened her expressions even more. “I love you, too, sweetie.”

 

 

At some point in the night, Junhui stirred awake and cracked an eye open. The room was dark saved for the glow from the street lamps streaming through the windows. Still groggy, Junhui could make out a shadowed figured quietly shutting the door and making his way toward the bed.

“Wonwoo?”

The figure stopped momentarily, then resumed his movement. “Hey, kitten,” he whispered, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

“’s’kay,” he mumbled, eyelids still heavy. He tried rubbing them. “Where did you go?”

“Just… around.” Wonwoo lowered himself to his haunches by the side of the bed where Junhui laid.

“That’s not a real answer,” he pouted, but Wonwoo merely scoffed.

“How are you feeling?”

“Sleepy.”

The low-pitched chuckle that Junhui had come to adore echoed through the room, and he smiled. “Then sleep, moonlight.”

Junhui patted the other side of the bed lazily. “You, too.”

He couldn’t be sure because his eyes were half closed and the surrounding was dim, but Wonwoo probably rolled his eyes at him, before standing up. Junhui scooted over to make room for him and turned to his side to wait until he got under the covers.

“You shouldn’t be wandering around in your condition,” Junhui scolded, although it lost most of its heat by the yawn that overtook him.

Wonwoo laughed and flicked his forehead lightly. It didn’t hurt, but Junhui stillpouted and rubbed at the spot. “What condition? I’m fine.”

Junhui pursed his lip, pensive. “Is it something I can’t know?”

Dropping the jokes, Wonwoo sighed and met his gaze. “No, nothing like that. It’s just… I’ll tell you tomorrow, how’s that?”

Obviously, Junhui didn’t want to force him, even if he were curious. So he agreed. “Okay.”

Wonwoo smiled softly, fondly, sending Junhui’s heart into overdrive. He couldn’t maintain eye contact, so he averted his focus to their hands. They were placed on the pillow halfway between their faces, just half an inch apart. Half an inch that felt like a whole chasm. They’d held hands numerous times before, but those instances were different. If he were to broach that distance now, it would have a brand new meaning, wouldn’t it?

Surprising him, Wonwoo’s hand moved. A second of panic later, his heart hammered even more intensely. Wonwoo squeezed his hand, prompting him to glance up.

“Sleep,” he said firmly. “We’ll talk tomorrow.”

There was something in his eyes, another meaning hidden there. They wouldn’t just be discussing where Wonwoo went today, they’ll talk about where the two of them would go from now on, as well. The realization made his stomach flip flop, both from nerves and excitement.

As if sensing it, Wonwoo gave his hand another gentle squeeze. Junhui felt himself relaxing, taking a deep breath, and returning the smile. “Okay,” he said again. “Goodnight, Wonwon.”

“Goodnight, kitten.”

With sleep settling over them lightly like a blanket, Junhui felt something warm and soft placed tenderly on his forehead.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOOOOOOOOOOOT POP THE CHAMPAGNE AND SPARKLING APPLE CIDER!!! ✩°｡⋆⸜(ू˙꒳˙ ) THE IMP GOT PLAYED BY HIS OWN GAME +｡:.ﾟヽ(´∀`｡)ﾉﾟ.:｡+ﾟﾟ+｡:.ﾟヽ(*´∀`)ﾉﾟ.:｡+ﾟ
> 
> Channie!!! You did so good, my dude! (๑˃̵ᴗ˂̵)و I am so proud of you! You finally saw the light and repented. No one blames you anymore, please be happy from now on. And to explain how he got to the cliff so fast: he still had a magical traveling device from Krius. Once the earthquake destroyed the lighthouse, he was able to cut himself free and use it to warp to where WonHui are, not expecting to come right as Krius monologues. And he found the sword at the base of the cliff, after Jun threw it.
> 
> Mama Wen is alive!!! hahahahaha. Although I guess it wasn't much of a surprise, but hopefully the way she appeared was good enough! :D
> 
> WonHui being linked (❀˙˘˙)♡(˙˘˙❀) i am a sucker... (Did Wonu kiss Jun's forehead while he slept? Yes, yes, he did). So now that there's no more impending DOOM, WonHui will _finally_ FINALLY talk about their feelings. About damn time, good lord... (¬_¬)
> 
> At any rate! There's one more chapter where we wrap things up with the rest of the characters, and then it'll be the epilogue! I hope you had a good time reading, and hope to see you next week! ^_^ Thank you very much!  
> xoxoxo


	26. Smile Flower

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wonwoo takes care of some unfinished business, and WonHui have The Talk™

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys, I hope that you had a happy thanksgiving if you celebrate the holiday! I'm really sorry that this chapter is late, but alas, my body kind of gave out on me, and then we had family coming over. And of course, it had to happen now, when I don't have the chapter pre-written x__x 
> 
> But back to Thanksgiving: this is a really crappy way of showing it, but i am _so, so , so_ grateful for each and everyone of you! (Except you, the troll. Go away!) Thank you for showing me constant love and support, even when I don't really deserve it XD You are amazing, I love youuuuu (ღ˘⌣˘ღ)
> 
> Anyway... this is it! The final chapter before the epilogue! I can't believe it's already ending (ಥ﹏ಥ) It's been such a journey, and I hope that you had as much fun as I did following WonHui's progress and adventures. 
> 
> Now without further ado, please enjoy (and accept my apologies).
> 
> -

 

Sensing sunshine on his skin was something Wonwoo still couldn’t get used to. He stood facing the window of his apartment, hands outstretched to harvest the golden light. In the middle of winter, it didn’t offer much heat, yet it felt… oddly pleasant. He’d almost forgotten the sensation altogether.

A commotion outside caught his attention, and Wonwoo glanced up. The harbor was still buzzing with excitement and wonders, people running around celebrating, while others simply stood in awe of the change. Mostly, though, he guessed they all shared a bit of overwhelming bewilderment. It certainly will take some time before things could calm down, for the townspeople to come to terms with what life entails now that the curse was removed.

Wonwoo felt a little restless himself. Rolling his shoulders, he looked around the living room for his jacket. Now that he wasn’t on the cusp of dying, he had things to sort out. In the midst of searching for his keys, he remembered that his bike wasn’t in the back lot. He groaned, rubbing at his face tiredly, only to hiss in pain when he accidentally touched the cuts littering his cheek and forehead. Well, he thought with a look outside, maybe one of those merry people would be generous enough to let him borrow their car.

He had rounded the couch to head for the entrance, when a door down the hall open. Wonwoo turned over his shoulder to see Hayun walking out, carrying a tray with an empty bowl of soup. Seeing him, her brows knitted together.

“Are you going somewhere?”

He dodged the question. “How is he?”

Either too tired or willing to humor him, Hayun didn’t press for an answer to her own inquiry. She took the dishes to the sink. “He’s sleeping now. You should be doing the same.”

Again, he slithered his way out of that. “Krius’ spell didn’t do any permanent damage, right? Did I take too much when he transferred his energy to me?”

After they’d gone to get examined at the hospital, Wonwoo had put a respectful distance between him and Junhui, giving the witchling and Hayun time to themselves. He hadn’t really spoken to him after putting him up in his room. Even if he knew Junhui couldn’t be in better hands than his own mother’s, it didn’t stop Wonwoo from worrying anyway.

Hayun smiled gently, but then it turned into a full chuckle. “I never thought I’d say this, but you two are so similar, it cracks me up.”

“What?”

“He was asking about you, too. It’s cute.”

Wonwoo could feel the tips of his ears heating up, and he cleared his throat, averting his attention to something else. This situation was too strange for him to handle even on a good day. The fact that the pain meds were starting to wear off, in addition to how discordant his thoughts flitted around his head, didn’t help any.

“I’m fine,” he said in response. “I just need to go somewhere for a while, get things in order. So just make yourselves at home in the meantime.”

“Mm.” She nodded, leaning back against the sink. “I suppose it’d be useless of me to try to lecture you?”

That got a short laugh out of him. “Sorry.”

She sighed, a little too dramatic to sound like genuine dismay in his opinion, but quickly perked up. “Considering not even a stab wound could stop you, the least I can do is help.”

Wonwoo stared at her with an arched brow, not following her line of thoughts.

She put a hand out and waved her other hand on top of it, making something small appear. “Here.” Cupping the object in her palms, she threw it at him.

Wonwoo caught the key in midair, hearing her tell him, “Just don’t forget to wear your helmet and keep to the speed limit.”

Rolling his eyes, he pocketed the bike key. “Thanks, _Mom._ ”

“Hey, Jun hasn’t said yes yet.”

 _Yet_. Dear lord.

With the years between their reencounter and everything happening, he’d almost forgotten how mischievous Hayun could be. He shot her an unamused look, but she merely responded with a thrilled little chuckle. Wonwoo decided to leave before she could do more damage.

Outside, he found the bike where she promised it’d be. The engined roared to life, and he kicked off. He found his way to his parents’ old house with relative ease, especially now that he didn’t have to avoid main roads. He was surprised, however, to see Mingyu’s car parked out front. He’d figured the couple would be long gone by now, leaving behind a note for him of their whereabouts.

Slowing down, Wonwoo dismounted and went up the opened front door. He poked his head inside to see the couple in the midst of scrubbing and organizing. Because of course these clean freaks would be.

The door creaked as he pushed it further, prompting Minghao to take his attention away from his task at folding towels, while Mingyu dropped the sponge he’d been using to wipe the windows into a bucket at his feet.

“So the hero returns,” Minghao greeted with a laugh, the amazement in his tone apparent. “You guys really did it.”

Mingyu left the row of windows and frowned when he saw Wonwoo come in alone. “Where’s Junhui?”

“Resting.”

“Shouldn’t you do the same?” Minghao wondered, eyeing the bandages and raw cuts with a grimace. “You look like you were chewed up by Krius, then spit out.”

“Thanks,” he responded wryly. “I didn’t expect you to still be here, and cleaning at that.” Just to see, he wiped his finger across the surface of the shelf. Not even a speck of dust.

“This place is a pigsty,” Mingyu reproached with an offended expression, causing Wonwoo to arch an incredulous brow. “When’s the last time you even dusted? Or even aired out the rooms?”

“Been kind of busy not getting killed, so excuse me for not having time to find a good housekeeper.”

“Exactly!” Mingyu exclaimed, completely ignoring the sarcasm. “Consider this our thank you gift for everything you and Junhui did for us.”

“Oh!” Getting up from the floor, Minghao walked over to the mantel and picked up the protection charm. “Here, Junhui will probably want this back.”

“Mm.” Wonwoo accepted the necklace and pocketed it, looking around the house. “So what’s next?”

“Well, I have the comforters drying in the back, and then finish the windows—”

“I don’t mean the cleaning,” Wonwoo interrupted with a shake of the head. “Will you stay on the island?”

The couple shared a look. “For now,” Mingyu replied. “I mean, we never really planned for a life anywhere else.”

“Don’t I know it,” Wonwoo muttered. Mingyu shot him the stink eye, which he ignored. “Well, that’s good to know,” he mused. “Don’t forget to keep in touch.”

“Wait, you’re leaving already?”

“No, I’m on an errand trip. I only stopped by to check on the house. You just happened to be here, too.”

“Hey!” Mingyu whined, and Minghao laughed, squeezing his fiancé’s nape.

“By the way,” the latter called when Wonwoo reached the door. “Can we assume you and Junhui will be sharing the same address from now?”

“Err…” The question reminded him and that things between him and Junhui were still very much up in the air. Rubbing the back of his neck, he sucked in a breath and let it out slowly.

“Wait a minute,” Mingyu interrupted. “Don’t tell me you still haven’t told him.”

Wonwoo glared. “None of your concern.”

Instead of backing up, Mingyu laughed and shook his head incredulously. “I can’t believe this. If Hao and I had taken that long, we would never have gotten married.”

“You’re _still_ not married.”

“Only because of circumstances! Who would want to have a wedding with a sea monster theme?”

“You never believed that he could be defeated, though,” Wonwoo pointed out. “Which means you were ready to stay unmarried forever. Furthermore, it’s been over a century since you popped the question. I don’t think you get the right to criticize me for taking my time.”

Mingyu scoffed. “That’s it. You are _not_ invited the wedding, and I’ll make a note on Junhui’s invitation that he’s not allowed to bring you as his plus one. Ha!”

Smirking, Wonwoo retorted, “Didn’t I tell you before that he and I come together as a pack?” He pulled up two fingers and moved them back and forth.

Mingyu made a face. “A lot of big talk for a guy who can’t even express his feelings. Are you afraid he’ll reject you, is that it?”

That was definitely something Wonwoo didn’t want to think about or even consider. “No, and I don’t need advice from the two hundred-year-old fiancé, either.”

Unfazed, Mingyu swung an arm around Minghao and nuzzled into his hair. “At least I have one, right, honey?”

Minghao, pressing his hands over his face, muttered, “This entire conversation is ridiculous. I am surrounded by idiots.”

“Hao!”

“I’m leaving. Drop the key by my apartment whenever you return to town.” Then before it could get any more troublesome, Wonwoo walked out and continued on his way.

The journey to his next destination proved rather arduous in his current condition, having to abandon his bike partway to continue the hike on foot. However, the look of sheer shock tinged with fear crossing over Mathias’ face at his arrival was well worth the soreness and fatigue.

“What the—You!”

The cranky old goat was kneeling in his yard, when Wonwoo found him, house unprotected by the invisible barrier. By the looks of things, Mathias must have been in the midst of harvesting herbs and whatnot. Wonwoo hardly cared, digging the pistol a little harder against the man’s temple. His eyes all but popped out of their sockets. Cautiously, he peeked at him. “What do you want?” he gritted out, full of disdain.

Stuffing his free hand in his pocket, Wonwoo regarded him with apathy, completely at ease. “You have something that belongs to me, and I came to retrieve it.”

Mathias’ hands clenched into fists as he gritted his teeth. “I threw that worthless trinket the moment the sun rose.”

Wonwoo clicked his tongue. “Now why would you lie about such a thing?”

“I don’t have to answer to you—ah!” He choked on his breath when the younger moved to grip at his collar.

“Hand it over, unless you’d rather I depart today with your toes as collateral?” To emphasize the weight of the question, he shifted the gun toward the man’s foot.

A series of muttered profanities tumbled out of the latter’s mouth, not that Wonwoo was paying particular attention to it, too busy hauling the man to his feet and shoving him toward his house.

“You insolent punk! It wasn’t enough that you broke into my house and tried to burn it down, now you’re threatening me at gunpoint and stealing from me!”

“It wasn’t yours to begin with.”

They stopped at the reading table next to his armchair, where a small jewelry box sat.

“There,” Mathias harrumphed. “Take it and leave!”

Wonwoo reached for the box, fingers flicking the lid open. Right at that moment, something at the corner of his eye moved. He barely had time to duck that a vase came flying toward his head. Just like last time, fortunately, the item aimed for him missed its target and crashed into pieces.

Clicking his tongue with annoyance, Wonwoo looked away from the shards to the seething man across from him. “You never learn, do you? Or perhaps you simply enjoy destroying your own belongings.”

“Shut up or—”

“Or what?” Wonwoo asked in monotone, getting up to reach for the jewelry box once more. “You’ll fling more things at me? Go ahead.” He shrugged, pocketing the necklace.

Not sparing the old goat another glance, he turned to go, ignoring the jabs thrown at his back. At least this time he won’t get hit with a pinecone. When he reached the door, he turned around and pulled the pistol out from his waistband.

“In the spirit of turning over a new leaf,” he said, “I thought I should be honest.” Quickly, he unclipped the magazine and waved the empty cartridge in the air, a smug smirk dancing on his lips. “Your toes were never in jeopardy.”

Rage rolled over Mathias’ face, blood rushing to the surface in realization of the trickery. “You cocky bastard—”

Wonwoo slipped out the door and slammed it behind him, laughing out loud when he heard yet another vase or whatnot crash against the wood, accompanying the screams and insults. He didn’t get to punch the daylight out of the old grump, but he’ll satisfy himself with this much. Junhui would probably fuss over him if Wonwoo ended up tearing the stitches on his knuckles over an altercation.

The next item on his to-do list required a bit of navigation and memory digging. He hadn’t been there in so long, he just hoped he won’t get lost. The remote area was chosen on purpose, of course. The less popular and accessible, the better for all involved. If he couldn’t give his friends peace when they were alive, the least he could do was find them a serene resting place.

After a good hour, he finally managed to climb the right hill and find the small garden hidden behind the abandoned houses. The last time Wonwoo stood here, he’d been covered in mud, wincing at the blisters on his palms as he gripped the shovel, tears blending in with the pouring rain. He’d apologized until he could no longer speak, heart as heavy as lead, filled with nothing but regret and hatred.

Now years later, bright sunshine lit up the scene and made the drops of dew glimmer like tiny diamonds. His body was covered in injuries, but he’d won. He’d kept his promise. His friends were no longer prisoners of this cursed island.

Kneeling down, he started to clean up a little. He had no shears nor trowels to get rid of the tougher weeds and dried out wild grass, but he did his best to pull out the less tenacious ones. Hayun mentioned stopping by tomorrow with Chan. She’ll be able to get rid of the rest to give their loved ones the respectful and pretty memorial they deserve.

In the midst of using a large rock to break apart the tough soil, he unearthed a small and healthy little sprout. The seedling was hidden by the dried out husks around it, and yet its vitality was exceptional. It didn’t look like the common weeds, either. Curious of its origin and presence, Wonwoo moved aside dried leaves and dirt in order to follow the stem. It led him to a small bush partially growing out of a cracked rock halfway between the two tombstones.

Wonwoo might not be an expert on plants, but he recognized those tiny five-petal, blue flowers. Back in the day, when death still stirred the townspeople’s conscience, small bouquets of forget-me-nots would be placed at the family’s door as a sign of comfort. The tradition quickly disappeared, but the meaning of those flowers stayed with him.

To find them growing here seemed somewhat miraculous and nothing short of magical. He pushed the rock away to give the plant more room to grow and catch sunlight. Sitting back on his legs, he scanned the epithets and names on the tombstones.

“I’ll be leaving the island in a couple days,” he murmured softly. “So I came to say goodbye. And to thank you, for everything you’ve done, for your sacrifice, your friendship and your trust. I’ll strive to work hard and earn the new life that you’ve made possible for me.” He exhaled, smiling faintly.

A gentle breeze blew through the area, causing the little flowers to dance slightly to the silent notes. Wonwoo studied the scene, eyes flickering to his friends’ names once more. Then he patted his pockets and found the empty jar that used to contain the healing salve. He filled half of it with soil, then very carefully uprooted a part of the flower bush. Due to the constraint of the container’s size, he couldn’t take more than a few stems, but he hoped it’d be enough. Wherever he may end up living, he’ll have a piece of them with him.

He stayed with Jihoon and Soonyoung for a moment longer, reminiscing days of long ago, then he said farewell once more, stroking the tombstones as he went. When he felt the heat on the stone, thanks to the sunshine, he smiled, feeling a similar warmth in his chest.

By the time he returned to town, twilight had just descended. He hadn’t planned on being out for that long. Hopefully, Junhui slept through the day and didn’t give Hayun too much trouble about where Wonwoo had gone. Still, before he could return to the apartment, he had one more stop to make.

Hayun was on the phone when he unlocked the door, probably with her husband. Wonwoo winced internally at the thought of that conversation. In the past, he’d only interacted with the man a few times. With any luck, he wasn’t the kind to hold grudges. Wonwoo toed off his shoes and locked the door.

“Jun’s still recovering,” Hayun said into the receiver. “Yes, I know, honey.” Seeing Wonwoo, she gestured toward the kitchen counter, where a tray of food sat, still hot. Magic sure was handy, he mused.

“Make sure you eat,” she mouthed at him, pointing a finger in his direction and schooling her expression into a severe scowl. It looked anything but threatening. Now he could see where Junhui got that trait from.

“Yes yes yes,” Wonwoo shooed her away.

Either distracted by the phone call or believing him to behave, she waved at him and headed for the hall. A few seconds later, the door shut with a soft click.

Wonwoo retrieved the jar with the forget-me-nots and gave it some water, placing it by the window to let it harvest tomorrow’s sunlight. Then he ate quickly, then looked at his bandages, making sure to change the ones that got mussed up from today’s activities. Hayun left some pain killers on the table, which he swallowed, then went to check on Junhui.

It was unbelievable how relieved he felt when he cracked open the bedroom door and peeked inside. Objectively speaking, there was nothing much to the scene; his room was still a mess, barely enough light filtered in from the windows to show him the same exact four walls he’d spent decades staring at. And yet the sight of Junhui being there, asleep in Wonwoo’s bed, looked so right and fitting.

He could feel his heartbeat slowing down, his shoulders relaxing from the tense posture he’d sported all day. All the stress was unwinding, gradually melting away into the air. For a brief moment, he allowed his thoughts to wander, conjuring up visions of a future where he’d come home to a similar moment. The surrounding would be different, but Junhui would still be there, waiting for him.

His stomach swooped, and he shook himself out of the daze. That wasn’t something he could decide on his own, and definitely not a topic to be discussed right now, either.

Quietly, he slipped into the room, contenting himself with this foreign sense of comfort and peacefulness for now. He’d barely taken a couple steps that Junhui stirred, and Wonwoo halted.

“Wonwoo?” a groggy voice asked, body already shifting to look for him.

A soft smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he approached, curbing the urge to run his fingers through the messy brown locks. “Hey, kitten. Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

Junhui mumbled out a reply, eyes not quite open as he tried to keep a conversation going despite the drowsiness. It was cute, the way he rubbed at his eyes and sat there with hair sticking up in every direction. Wonwoo felt a pleasant warmth spread through his chest as he gazed at the boy. He wondered idly if that was their bond reacting to them being close to each other. It would certainly explain that spike of elation the second he stepped into the room.

“You shouldn’t be wandering around in your condition,” Junhui said, attempting to sound firm, but not quite achieving his goal.

Wonwoo laughed, settling down next to him in bed. He flicked him lightly on the forehead, watching with fond amusement as the other scrunched up his face in a pout. “What condition? I’m fine.”

Instead of bantering back as he expected, Junhui grew quiet, a contemplative expression drawing across his features. “Is it something I can’t know?”

Wonwoo’s heart sunk at the dejected tone. He sighed. “No, nothing like that. It’s just…”

It took a lot of self-restraint not to simply reach out and stroke his cheek, reassuring him that Wonwoo didn’t plan on holding to any more secrets. But it was late, Junhui still needed rest, and the topics they wanted to broach weren’t light. So he compromised, scooting a few inches closer on the pillow, “I’ll tell you tomorrow, how’s that?”

Junhui wanted to say more, doe eyes sparkling vividly. But in the end, he relented with an “Okay.”

Following the witchling’s gaze, he noticed for the first time how close their hands were placed next to each other. Wonwoo could tell what Junhui wanted. By the way his fingers twitched, bottom lip caught between his teeth, it was rather easy to guess. Feeling so self-conscious now, after everything they’d been through, though… _Cute_.

So Wonwoo indulged him, breaching that tiny gap to grasp his hand. He bit back a chuckle when Junhui jolted from surprise, and softened his expression to a warm smile when the boy glanced up.

“Sleep,” he ordered. “We’ll talk tomorrow.”

A short moment passed in which the implication sunk in, coloring Junhui’s cheeks a pretty pink. Wonwoo squeezed his hand again, enjoying how soft and warm it felt under his own.

“Okay. Goodnight, Wonwon.”

The first time he’d heard the nickname, he’d found it silly. But at some point, the feeling changed to endearment, and he couldn’t help returning the smile.

“Goodnight, kitten.”

He watched as Junhui closed his eyes and let himself succumb to sleep. Gently, he pulled the comforter to cover both of them, then leaned forward to press a soft kiss to Junhui’s forehead.

Maybe it was wishful thinking, or perhaps a trick of the dim light. Whatever the cause, Wonwoo was happy to fall asleep to the sweet smile that bloomed across Junhui’s pretty lips.

 

»»————-  ✧ *: ･ﾟ ✧  ————-««

 

“Hey, feeling good enough for a walk?”

Still squatting on the ground, Junhui shielded his eyes from the sun in order to look up at Wonwoo. They were in the alley outside of Wonwoo’s apartment. A few minutes ago, while he and Hayun were discussing some traveling plans, Junhui had slipped outside to get some fresh air.

That was when he’d heard some rustling nearby. Upon further investigation, he found a familiar four-legged friend, Happy, the gray cat who visited them at the the fish warehouse. The kitty had been munching on another can of tuna, probably Wonwoo’s doing, when Junhui approached and called out to him.

“Meow,” Junhui greeted, giggling when the kitty replied.

With no impending danger looming on the horizon, the two played with delight until Wonwoo spotted them.

“Sure, I can go,” Junhui answered now, giving Happy a few more strokes. “Do you think they’ll let me take him onboard the ferry?”

Wonwoo arched a brow. “You want to take him?”

“Why not? He is your cat, whether you claim him or not.”

He rolled his eyes, but since he didn’t deny it, Junhui counted it as a win. He bid Happy a temporary goodbye as he trailed after Wonwoo.

Unlike the first time he followed him to parts unknown, the sun was shining and the town burst with life. Junhui still couldn’t get used to seeing such a contrast, nor wrap his mind around the amount of people milling about. To keep them from getting separated in the crowd, Wonwoo took his hand and laced their fingers together. Junhui became instantly more self-aware, and suddenly nothing else mattered more than the firm, yet gentle hold around his hand.

He needed to distract himself, and what better way than to talk.

“The weather is really amazing, huh?” No sooner had the words left his mouth that he cringed, fighting the need to curl up into a ball. Or better yet, run away toward the nearest wall and splatter himself against it.

By some miracle, Wonwoo didn’t pull his hand away, nor shoot him any weird looks. He actually laughed, and the deep timber of it managed to untwist some of knots forming in Junhui’s belly.

“Yeah,” Wonwoo nodded, looking over at him with a smirk. “The company is pretty great, too.”

His heart skipped a beat, and he almost choked on the nervous laugh that escaped. This was not going well.

Averting his gaze, he stared out at the beach they were slowly approaching. He didn’t recognize the site, and from the lack of foot traffic, it was probably not a very popular spot. Maybe that was the reason Wonwoo chose it, so they could be left in peace. 

“So,” Junhui attempted to sound casual. “What was so urgent that you neglected rest to get done yesterday?”

“A few things.” Getting off the sidewalk, Wonwoo guided them toward the low wall that overlooked the sea. They took their seats. “First, I had to check in on Mingyu and Minghao.”

“Oh, my god!” His free hand flew to clasp over his mouth, wide eyes staring at his neighbor. “I can’t believe I completely forgot about them. Are they okay? Did—”

“Relax,” Wonwoo chuckled, patting his head. “They’re fine. They said they’d stay here for now, but promised to keep in touch.”

Junhui let out a sigh of relief. “Good, I’m glad. Did you stay with them the whole day?”

“Nah, I went to get Soonyoung’s charm back.”

“You did? Where was it?”

Wonwoo met Junhui’s expectant gaze with a complicated expression. “Mathias had it.”

“What? Why would he—” Gasping, he asked, “Did he steal it from you?” For a brief second, Junhui wondered how far his magic could reach. If he’d be able to do something to that old goat—nothing too drastic, maybe hide all of his spices or switch up the places of his utensils. Just enough to annoy him, without causing long-lasting trouble.

Wonwoo, seeing the crease between his brows, chuckled and smoothed his thumb over it. “Calm down, kitten. No need to bring your claws out.”

Junhui pursed his lip. “Why not? That necklace is precious to you.”

“It was, yeah.” He didn’t have enough time to ask why Wonwoo used past tense, but the latter continued, “And he didn’t steal it. Not exactly. Ahh.” A little uncomfortable, Wonwoo rubbed at his nape, smile tight. “It was his price for giving you lessons.”

The witchling’s jaw dropped as he stared at the boy next to him. “You traded… Soonyoung’s charm for me?”

Wonwoo offered him a sheepish grin and shrug.

“I…” He blinked, not quite believing it. Unable to express his emotions through words, all Junhui could do was turn around and hug Wonwoo tightly around the waist. The latter let out a startled noise, but quickly returned the gesture, hand rubbing large strokes across his back. “Thank you,” Junhui whispered against his jacket. “I’m sorry you had to make that kind of decision, and then I even got into a fight with you.”

“Hey, it’s okay. Besides, in the end, it was worth it, right?” Gently, he lifted the witchling’s chin up, smiling, making it impossible for Junhui not to return it. The easy mood shifted rather quickly, though, when Wonwoo added with a smirk, “Although if you still feel guilty, maybe you should compensate me.”

“Com…pensate… you?” Junhui blinked, head cocked to the side, not sure he was understanding properly. “How?”

Wonwoo just shrugged, smirk still present.

Somehow, that didn’t sound like it’ll bode well for Junhui. And yet his treacherous body decided the teasing was a positive stimulus and made his heart skip another beat.

“But so you have the charm now, right?” he asked, risking a peek. By the glint of amusement in Wonwoo’s eyes, the latter could probably tell Junhui was trying to change the subject. Still, he indulged the witchling this time.

“I gave it to your mom to hand to Chan,” Wonwoo said evenly. “I’m sure he’ll take good care of it.”

“But what about you? Don’t you want to keep something from Soonyoung?”

Wonwoo remained quiet for a moment, inhaling the briny air, before releasing his breath. “I do. I went to say goodbye yesterday, to both Soonyoung and Jihoon.”

Upon hearing the catch in his voice, Junhui squeezed his hand, offering silent comfort. Wonwoo smiled faintly.

“You know that plants don’t grow that well here, right? With the poor quality of the soil and lack of sunlight, nothing in the wild really strives unless they’re robust trees. And yet I found these… blue flowers growing there.”

“Blue flowers,” Junhui repeated. “Like, forget-me-nots?”

Wonwoo nodded. “Yeah, which normally require a lot of sunlight.”

“So then…” They shared a look, understanding the implication. At this point, nothing concerning magic could really surprise him anymore. “Wow.”

“Mm. I took a few sprigs back with me.”

Grinning, Junhui poked his knee. “Gonna play garden fairy, eh?”

They laughed, and Wonwoo commented, “It would certainly be an interesting career path.”

Out by the shore, rolling waves crashed onto the white sand, sending ocean spray into the air. The tiny droplets caught the sunlight and glimmered like tiny diamonds. The boys watched on in silent awe, skin tickled by the light layer of mist carried on by the breeze. 

Junhui took in a deep breath, filling his lungs with the salty taste of the ocean, the crisp scent of the air, and the glowing sunshine. If only he could capture this moment, sitting here with Wonwoo, and never let go of his hand. To simply live in the moment without worrying about where to go next, what awaited them once they departed from these shores, what would become of them.

Wonwoo was free now. He could travel anywhere that he desired. Finally, he’ll be able to pursue his dreams of exploring and discovering new places, to learn new cultures and experience all sorts of adventures. No longer did he have such a huge responsibility weighing him down, keeping him from getting what he deserved.

Krius had been defeated, the town liberated from the century-old curse, Hayun was found safely, and Wonwoo had a way off the island now. Thus concluded their deal. There was nothing else after this, nothing that Junhui was truly prepared for, anyway. He knew what he felt toward Wonwoo, and he supposed, to a certain degree, he knew Wonwoo cared for him, too.

But sometimes feelings weren’t enough.

Wonwoo wanted to travel the world, he’d earned that right and privilege after so long thriving for it. He remembered the passion with which Wonwoo had spoken about exploring the world, the ardor in his gaze, the intensity of his will to live and break free. All those dreams of his, plastered on his walls, coursing through his veins, giving him the motivation and strength to endure for so many years.

How could Junhui ask him to stay with him? He couldn’t be so selfish. Asking Wonwoo to stay with him wouldn’t be very different from imprisoning him anew. And that was the last thing Junhui wanted. Wonwoo had made enough sacrifices for others; it was time someone put him first.

By dint of losing himself in his thoughts, Junhui didn’t notice that he’d gripped Wonwoo’s hand with such fervor until the latter glanced over at him. Concern marred his handsome features. “Junnie? Are you okay?”

The witchling snapped out of the conflicting thoughts with a jolt, scrambling to paste on a grin. “Yeah, sorry. I was just…” He released his death grip, but Wonwoo didn’t release his hand. Rather, he wrapped his other hand over both of theirs, long and pale fingers contrasting with his sun-kissed skin.

“Just what?” he prompted when Junhui grew quiet, too busy staring at their hands.

He conjured up a bigger smile, making an effort to meet the other’s steady gaze. “Have you decided where you’ll go once we leave?”

The question surprised Wonwoo, prompting him to arch a brow. “You mean you’re not going to show me the prettiest moon right away?”

Junhui couldn’t help but laugh nervously, shaking his head. “That was… sort of a spur of the moment thing.”

“So you’re not going to? How disappointing.”

He knew Wonwoo was teasing him, but it didn’t stop him from explaining himself. “I don’t actually know where the prettiest moon is. I mean, I don’t have much experience.”

“You don’t say,” he retorted wryly.

“Hey!” Junhui whined and bumped their shoulders together. Wonwoo laughed, removing one hand around Junhui’s to swing it over the witchling’s shoulder, effectively pulling them closer together.

Gently, Wonwoo poked the other’s cheek. “I’m kidding.”

“Hmph!” To stop him from further abusing his cheek, Junhui grabbed the hand and threatened to bite him.

“Whoa!” Laughing, Wonwoo went on the offense by tickling him. Junhui shrieked, giggles and pleas intermixing as he squirmed. He couldn’t get very far with Wonwoo’s hold around his waist, but he still tried his best.

“Don’t make—Hey! Don’t make— _haha_ —use my magic on you!” He caught his breath, while Wonwoo gave him an unimpressed look.

Then he smirked, goading, “Go ahead and try. I’m the source of your powers. Your magic can’t affect me. I’m untouchable.”

Junhui narrowed his eyes and glared with everything he had at that smug expression. If he didn’t like him so much, he’d hit him. Even knowing that it was probably in vain, Junhui still concentrated to at least levitate Wonwoo in the air a few inches. Just to show him wrong.

When nothing so much as his clothes getting rustled by the sea breeze, Junhui groaned and whined in protest. Which only caused Wonwoo to laugh with unrestrained amusement. “Sorry, kitten,” he said, although he sounded anything but.

“I can’t believe you’re the only thing—person—my magic can’t affect,” he muttered, puffing his cheeks out.

Wonwoo poked at them. “Harming me would harm you, silly.”

“I know that.” Unsatisfied and somewhat embarrassed at himself, he leaned his entire weight on Wonwoo’s side, head dropping to the latter’s shoulder.

Wonwoo didn’t seem to mind, just gathered him closer with an arm and kept it around the witchling’s neck.

“By the way, I know where the prettiest moon is,” he said casually.

Surprised, Junhui lifted his gaze to meet his. “You do?”

“Yeah, right here.”

Still rather perplexed, Junhui looked skyward, head shifting back and forth in search of the moon. However, with the bright sunlight and wisps of white clouds, the already pale and faint sphere couldn’t be spotted. His brows furrowed. Wonwoo must be referring to the night they defeated Krius, when the ominous clouds finally lifted to reveal the beautiful nocturnal sky. Junhui recalled Wonwoo’s dazed and enchanted expression as he gazed at the crescent moon.

Wonwoo’s voice drew him back to the present. “Anyway, I think I’m going to be sticking around.”

“Right,” Junhui said quietly, looking back at his neighbor, laughing softly. He did his best to show support, to be happy for him. But it was painful to keep smiling when the lump in his throat grew and his eyes began to prickle. “I’m…” He swallowed. “I’m glad.”

Studying him for a long moment—long enough to make him squirm—Wonwoo leaned closer to his face. “Are you really?”

Junhui didn’t trust his voice, too afraid he’ll babble on in panic. His heart was already beating frantically. So he nodded.

Not satisfied, Wonwoo gently grazed the pad of his thumb under the other’s eye. “Then why do you look like you’re about to cry?”

In reaction to the comment, Junhui jerked away, immediately rubbing at his eyes, forcing out a laugh. “It’s the wind. It’s making my eyes water.”

Firm but gentle hands curled around his wrists to move them away from his face. Suddenly, he was staring right at Wonwoo, the latter’s gaze too piercing, too intense. Junhui resisted the urge to squeeze his eyes shut in fear of having his secret found out. He felt a light thump against his forehead as Wonwoo bumped their heads together.

Wonwoo shook his head, tiny grin dancing at the corner of his mouth. Amusement crossed his face as he cradled Junhui’s face in his hands. They felt warm against his chilled skin.

“Wen Junhui, you are so gullible, I’m actually quite worried.”

Junhui blinked, brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

The grin turned broader, more playful. “I was talking about you. You’re my moonlight, aren’t you?”

Doe eyes turned round. Instantly, realization kicked in, and heat rushed to his face. Wonwoo chuckled, thumbs stroking over the pink cheeks. Junhui gaped at him like a fish out of water, mind reeling. “You… What… Wait, I… You mean…”

Laughing fondly, the adorable nose scrunch momentarily took Junhui’s mind off of the chaos swirling within him. His voice was low, the deep timbre washing over Junhui like waves of comfort.

“As long as I have you with me, I don’t need to go anywhere, Junnie. I don’t want to be anywhere else but here, by your side, for as long as you’ll have me.”

Needing something to keep him ground, Junhui reached for the red hoodie. His fingers curled into the material as his breath came in shallowly. He stared deeply into Wonwoo’s eyes, seeing nothing but honesty there. Honesty and—

“I love you, Junhui.”

His breath got stuck somewhere in his throat, and yet somehow he managed to squeak out, “I love you, too, Wonwoo.”

As if finally able to breathe too, Wonwoo laughed, elation and relief plain as day. Junhui quickly followed, lunging forward to hug him, burrowing against the crook of his shoulder.

“You were so mean,” he whined, scooting close enough to almost straddle his lap. “I thought—I thought you were going to stay here and abandon me again. I was ready—I told myself I’d let you go for the sake of your dreams of traveling the world. I wanted you to be happy, to finally get what you’ve always wished for. It would be okay, I thought, but it was so hard just imagining not having you with me anymore.”

“Shh, you’re okay. I’m not leaving your side, kitten,” Wonwoo reassured him, one hand rubbing comforting circles, while the other patted at his thigh.

Shifting a little in order to see him properly without having to move away, Junhui decided to tease him back. “You really won’t leave me?”

Wonwoo nodded. “Mm.”

“You’ll stay with me even if I decide to move to Amarut Island and become a hermit?”

Wonwoo rolled his eyes, but he cracked a crooked grin, running his hand through the brown locks, brushing them away from the witchling’s eyes. His fingertips lingered on the latter’s skin, and a pleasant shiver ran through Junhui.

“You’ve already managed to make me renounce my freedom and come back to this prison once,” Wonwoo reminded him, “I think the answer is pretty obvious.”

“Yeah, I guess so.” Grinning, Junhui closed his eyes, basking in the feeling of Wonwoo’s arms tightening around him, knowing that everything was going to be okay now.

This time, when he opened his eyes to meet Wonwoo’s, his heart soared, along with the thousands or so butterflies swirling in his tummy. His hands still shook from the rush of adrenaline and excitement, but when Wonwoo slowly leaned forward, Junhui met him halfway.

Wonwoo kissed the same way he worked: with self-assuredness and skill. He took charge without being forceful, leisurely easing Junhui into it as he deepened the kiss and licked across his lips, requesting permission. Junhui opened for him readily, falling into the embrace, drunk on the sensation and the taste of Wonwoo on his tongue. His entire body thrummed, happiness coursing through his veins. Fireworks exploded behind his eyes, sending him spiraling into euphoria.

Heart beating so erratically, he should have been afraid. But fear didn’t even register on his mind. How could he feel anything other than joy and exhilaration, when Wonwoo held him with such tenderness and care? As if Junhui were made of glass, worthy to be cherished, protected. To be loved.

The two of them had come so far. Who could have predicted that a partnership based on necessity would pave the turbulent road to a hesitant friendship, only to lead to this undeniable bond? To finally arrive at this moment—a cumulation of doubts and heartache, trust and sacrifice.

But as the saying goes: the path to true love is seldom free of thorns and hardships.

Gradually, as the kiss slowed down, Wonwoo leaned their foreheads together and gazed at Junhui with such an open and fond expression, the latter’s heart clenched. He could hardly believe that this man—this strong, beautiful, and amazing man—chose him. That Wonwoo loved him as much as Junhui did.

“I love you,” Junhui whispered, wrapping his arms around Wonwoo’s neck and burrowing against the slope of his shoulder. “So much.”

Wonwoo chuckled, the sound rumbling through his chest, causing the clinging witchling to grin against the fabric of the hoodie. He felt Wonwoo’s arm tighten around his waist. “I love you, too, moonlight.”

“This means that you’re never allowed to leave me,” Junhui proclaimed, only half joking.

And Wonwoo understood, as Junhui knew he would. Wonwoo kissed his temple, replying, “I know. We’re a package deal, after all.”

Giggling at the irony, Junhui nodded and clung to him even more. “Yep!”

After a short beat, Wonwoo drummed lightly against the small of his back. The ticklish sensation made Junhui squirm, squeaking out a laugh. “There’s something I need to get,” Wonwoo said.

“Hm?” Puzzled, Junhui let go enough to peer at him, head cocked to the side, eyes blinking innocently.

Wonwoo stood up and motioned for Junhui to stay put, while he perused the rocks and crevices around them. He used his foot to nudge a couple of them, clearly searching for something. The witchling was just about to suggest helping him, when he exclaimed, “Ah, there.”

To Junhui’s surprised, Wonwoo lowered himself to his haunches and reached behind one of those rocks to pull out a small package. He returned to his seat and handed it to Junhui. When the boy merely toyed with the blue and pink ribbon, he urged him to open it.

“Since your scarf got ruined during the fight,” he started to say, “You know, with my blood and all—” Junhui shot him a glare for speaking so lightly of his near death experience, but Wonwoo laughed it off—“I couldn’t return it, so I went to find a replacement.”

Out of the wrapping paper, Junhui lifted the lid of the box to reveal a beautiful and thick scarf, soft and silky to the touch.

He ran his fingers over the vibrant colored wool, grinning as Wonwoo added, “They didn’t have any in white, though.”

“It’s okay,” Junhui replied, holding the red garment against his chest. “White isn’t my color, either.”

“No, I suppose not.” Wonwoo smiled and watched Junhui bundle himself up, scooting over until their sides were pressed together, dropping his head on his partner’s shoulder.

“Thank you, Wonwon.” Giggling into his hand, he looked up to meet the other’s bemused gaze. “I’ll buy you a red beanie when we get home.”

That got Wonwoo laughing hard enough that his nose scrunched, and Junhui felt very proud. “Sure, kitten. Whatever you want.”

The couple remained seated on their perch for the rest of the day, just watching the sun shining across the surface of the sea, listening to the waves crash onto shore, and enjoying each other’s company. Tomorrow morning, they’ll bid farewell to Serenity Port, and Junhui was certain that despite everything, Wonwoo must be filled with conflicting and complicated feelings about the departure and future in general.

But whatever happened, they would have each other. If the two of them could defeat a creepy and blood-thirsty monster, they could face the real world. As long as they were together, they’ll be okay.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someone grab the champagne and sparkling cider, we are having a PARTY with a champagne tower and an entire feast!!! ✩°｡⋆⸜(ू˙꒳˙ ) WOOOOOOOOOOH +｡:.ﾟヽ(´∀`｡)ﾉﾟ.:｡+ﾟﾟ+｡:.ﾟヽ(*´∀`)ﾉﾟ.:｡+ﾟ
> 
> Goodness gracious, it took them 26 chapters, and 160K+ words to finally KISS and CONFESS. Praise the WonHui gods, it is a miracle! (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ．。✧．:*･°
> 
> And GyuHao will finally get married after centuries! Wooooooooooo ☆･:*:･ﾟ(≧∀≦) ･:*:･ﾟ☆ Their wedding will be the all glitz out with Chanel stuff everywhere LOL
> 
> MATHIAS GETTING PUNK'D BWHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAH. I know some of you wanted him to get punched and thrown down a cliff, but I didn't want to add that to Wonwoo's list of crimes XD Besides, he gotta live in order to remember the shame of being duped lol
> 
> SoonHoon ˚‧º·(˚ ˃̣̣̥⌓˂̣̣̥ )‧º·˚ The babies are now freeeeee~  
> I know it wasn't mentioned in the actual fic, but Wonu's black beanie was a gift from Jihoon. So in the course of the journey, he lost both something precious from his best friends. Somewhere, there is a metaphor that Wonwoo had to leave behind the guilt associated with his friends, in order to move on and become free. He brought back the forget-me-nots (please don't @ me for using that flower again. i am a sucker for forget-me-nots, and their meaning is perfect), which SoonHoon made grow.
> 
> Apparently, white is neither of WonHui's color in this AU, which means they'll get married in red suits. Hmm... why does that visual seem so familiar??? [Hmm...](https://twitter.com/Swanny_Writer/status/1066142083063279616)
> 
>  
> 
> That's enough of me babbling on and on. I'll stop here and save the emotional stuff for the epilogue (sometime next week? Maybe??? I need to actually write it...) But please know that i love you lots and am forever thankful that you went on this ride with me! (.づ˘⌣˘)づ.  
> xoxoxo


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